


Lean On Me

by Shi_Toyu



Series: The Truth is, I am IronWinter [14]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Bucky Barnes Feels, Cameos, Canonical Character Death, Car Accidents, Child Abuse, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Needs to Control His Mouth, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nick Fury is Not Amused, Physical Abuse, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Principal Nick Fury, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Protective Bucky Barnes, Rumors, Thor Is Not Stupid, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, Wheelchairs, dance competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7627378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/pseuds/Shi_Toyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty much everything had gone to hell after the accident, really. Life had been good beforehand. His dad had been distant, sure, but his mother had been a warm light to wipe that all away. At least Howard had been supportive, in his own way. He hadn’t liked that Tony wanted to be a dancer, but he’d made damn sure Tony would be the absolute best once he figured out there was no persuading the young genius otherwise. He’d even been at that performance; the last one Tony had ever done. It was hard to keep dancing after a spinal injury, after all. Not to mention how all that metal in his chest really limited his lung capacity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “High School AU: Tony gets hit by a drunk driver and the doctors say he may never walk again. he had loved to dance, especially with his mother and now he can’t. he gets depressed and no matter what anyone does nothing makes him feel better. then he makes some friends at his new school, the dancers of the dance club The Avengers, and they find out Tony’s PT instructor, Rumlow, is an asshole to Tony they take it into their own hands and help him get back to dancing. Tony and Bucky fall in love.”
> 
> Sorry I haven't written anything else in a minutes, guys! I was trying to get this entire thing done before I started posting it! The bright side? Now you'll get plenty of updates for a little while.

Pretty much everything had gone to hell after the accident, really. Life had been good beforehand. His dad had been distant, sure, but his mother had been a warm light to wipe that all away. At least Howard had been supportive, in his own way. He hadn’t liked that Tony wanted to be a dancer, but he’d made damn sure Tony would be the absolute best once he figured out there was no persuading the young genius otherwise. He’d even been at that performance; the last one Tony had ever done. It was hard to keep dancing after a spinal injury, after all. Not to mention how all that metal in his chest really limited his lung capacity.

The driver in the other car had been drunk, the police told Tony when he woke up in the hospital. The bastard had walked away with barely a scratch but would be facing charges of vehicular homicide. The same accident that had left Tony in a wheelchair had killed his parents on impact. Orphaned at thirteen. At least Obie had been there to step in and take charge as his legal guardian. Tony couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to be the heir to the Stark legacy going into the foster care system.

Tony was in the hospital for months, working with the physical therapists there to make sure he didn’t lose too much muscle mass and trying to learn how to walk again. It didn’t go very well. By the time he was cleared for Obie to take him home, the doctor had made it pretty clear that Tony didn’t have much chance of dancing ever again. If Tony cried after the doctor had left the room, there was no one there to know.

Obie hired him a personal physical therapist who came by the mansion every other day. The exercises hurt, and sometimes Tony felt like he just wanted to give up completely, but Rumlow had little patience for that. He was abrasive, demeaning, and had no qualms about telling Tony that the reason his recovery was coming along so slowly was because Tony wouldn’t put the effort in. Tony didn’t know how much more effort he could possibly give. He always ended their sessions shaking and sweaty and had thrown up more than once. Obie waved it off as tough love in order to get results. He told Tony not to worry about it.

Tony was fourteen by the time he was able to go back to school. The time that had passed had counteracted most of the grades he’d skipped. His classmates would only be about a year or so older than himself. He should still be able to graduate by sixteen or seventeen but he’d lost a lot of time. Obie thought it was a good idea not to send him back to the same school. A different environment, he said, would be better for Tony starting over. It wasn’t a boarding school, either, because Obie wanted to keep Tony close and because he still needed his physical therapy. Obie wanted him to go to a school nearby, SHIELD Academy. There had been a whole spiel about it but Tony honestly didn’t even listen.

Everyone stared at him his first day, and the day after, and the day after that. Tony could feel their eyes on him, could hear the barest hints of their whispers behind his back. There were all sorts of rumors about why he was in a wheelchair, even though the story was in the news and they all knew who he was. He was in the science labs when he overheard someone talking about how he was the one driving the car that day, that he was the one who hit another car and killed his parents. He asked the teacher to go to the nurse’s office and didn’t return for the rest of the class.

Tony hated SHIELD by the end of his first month there. School used to be something he looked forward to. He’d always loved learning. Now he dreaded having to get up and go every single day, to face his classmates. His physical therapy sessions felt worse than ever, now that he had to do them at the end of a school day and then somehow manage to get his homework done afterwards. The constant exhaustion plagued him day in and day out and he was grateful that Obie at least let him drink all the coffee he wanted. Tony wasn’t sure how he would survive otherwise.

A month and a half into the school year, a boy about a year older than himself with dirty blond hair dropped into the seat across from him during lunch. Tony spent his lunch periods in the library getting through as much homework as possible and normally that meant he got left alone. This boy was grinning widely and wearing a t-shirt in the most hideous shade of purple that Tony had ever seen.

“So I hear you used to dance before you got two bum legs. Some sort of prodigy, right?”

They were in the principal’s office less than ten minutes later, Tony still seething and Clint with a bloody nose. Fury took one look at them and made an irritated noise.

“What’d you do now, Barton?”

“Nuffin’!” the dirty blond defended himself. “I wash tryna’ be nish!”

“Fuck you,” Tony snapped.

“Language. If you don’t like what he has to say, then why don’t you tell me your side of the story.”

Tony colored and looked away. Shame washed over him. There was no way he was going to admit to getting so upset just because Clint said to his face what everyone else said behind his back. So what if he was a cripple who’d ruined his entire life and career? It wasn’t like it wasn’t true. He wasn’t going to bitch and whine about being called out on it. The silence stretched until Fury heaved a sigh.

“Alright then. Detention for both of you until next Wednesday. It starts today after school. You can meet in Mr. Coulson’s office. I’ll call your…” he glanced Tony’s way, “guardians and let them know.”

 _Fuck_. Well, Tony supposed he’d be needing to get his homework done _before_ physical therapy for the next week. There’s no way he’d be able to do any of it afterwards with it being so late.

“But what about-“

“No, Barton,” Fury cut him off. “Maybe next time you won’t start fights with other students. I’ve been very understanding in the past but there is a limit to my patience. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“… Yesh, Shir.”

“Good. You can meet in Mr. Coulson’s office five minutes after the final bell. If you’re late, I’m adding an extra day for every minute.”

They spent detention that day in silence, trading glares back and forth as Tony tried to concentrate on his homework and Barton blew spitballs at various objects around the room with surprising accuracy. Tony kept waiting for one to hit him, but it never happened. Maybe Barton was just trying to lull him into a false sense of security or maybe he had something worse up his sleeve. Maybe Tony just wasn’t even worth that much effort to him.

Obie wasn’t happy about the detentions. It was the first time Tony had really been in trouble since the accident and he found himself suddenly terrified that Obie would decide he was too much trouble to deal with as his guardian scowled down at him. Tony fidgeted in his chair.

“I’m extremely disappointed,” Obie finally said. “Fighting in school? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your parents would have been horrified.”

It was like a kick to the ribs, like all the air had been knocked right out of him. It was hard not to cry that night and he hated Barton all the more for it. Who did that asshole think he was? How could he just walk up to somebody and say that kind of thing?

Their second detention went much like the first, with Tony feeling the exhaustion. Rumlow had pushed him extra hard the night before and with everything else… Tony could see how his hand was shaking ever so slightly and messing up his handwriting but he did his best to ignore it. He didn’t look at Barton, didn’t even bother to glare. Rumlow had promised Tony that he’d be feeling the next few sessions for days and Tony believed him. Sometimes, Rumlow got in moods like that. All Tony wanted to be able to do when he got back home was drag himself into bed and pass out. Friday passed much the same way, though Tony was a bit more relaxed with the weekend ahead of them. Saturday would be his safe haven in which he could do his homework without worry.

Obie had a surprise for him come Sunday. Apparently, Obie felt that getting into a fight meant that Tony had too much extra energy. He’d hired Rumlow for the entire day to work it out of the young genius. Tony had never cried during a session before, but he could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks as he dry-heaved into a bucket. Behind him, Rumlow grumbled about how he was still so weak. He was shaking badly on Monday from the workout and not being able to sleep, dark bags under his eyes. It was fifteen minutes into their detention when Barton finally broke the silence.

“Hey, uh, you okay?”

Tony snorted.

“No, I’m a fucking cripple. Wanna rub it in my face some more?”

Barton’s nose wrinkled.

“Dude. Chill. I was just asking if you were okay cause you look like shit. I guess you really are just that much of a dick.”

“I didn’t start it, asshole.”

“What, and I did?”

“Yes!” Tony exclaimed in disbelief. “I don’t even know you and you come up to me and think it’s funny to crack some fucking joke about my ‘two bum legs’ like I don’t know I’ve lost everything. You think it’s hilarious to bring up the dance career of someone who will _never be able to dance again?_ No, fuck you. Like I don’t hear enough of that behind my back, you just had to go and throw it right in my face. So, yeah, I’d say you fucking started it.”

Barton gaped at him.

“What? No, I didn’t-Fuck.” He dropped his face into his hands. “I’m an idiot.”

“I can’t say I disagree.”

The next thing he knew Barton was out of his chair, across the room and dropping down onto the desk next to Tony.

“No, I mean, I’m sorry it came off that way. I run my mouth a lot, say all sorts of things. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m on the dance team here. We’ve heard a lot about what you used to do. Steve is _obsessed_ with your old performances. I think he’s managed to track them all down on tape so he can watch them over and over again. We’d been hoping you could maybe come by sometime and give us some pointers. _That’s_ why I was asking about your dancing.”

Tony bit his lip and looked down.

“I don’t think I’d be of much help. I told you, I can’t do any of that anymore.”

“But you loved it! You don’t just leave behind something that you love. At least this way you could still be involved or something, right? Just come by a practice and see what you think, okay? We all go out for burgers after and you’ll be on me. No better way to apologize for being an ass than a burger and fries, right?”

It was tempting, even though Barton was a bastard and it was probably all some sick joke. Tony hadn’t been in a dance studio since the accident and just the thought of a hardwood floor and a wall of mirrors filled him with longing. Add to that a free burger? And other dancers? He wasn’t forgiving Barton, not by a long shot, but just the thought of it…

“I can’t,” he said instead, his chest aching with the loss. “Obie doesn’t like me staying after school for things. It disrupts the driver’s schedule and he’s pissed enough about all these detentions.”

“Then what about after the detentions? How about you come on Thursday and then one of us can drive you home? I mean, we mostly all ride with Mrs. Rogers anyway. There’s totally room for one more. She’s got a van and everything so your chair can fit and you don’t have to worry about it.”

Tony winced.

“I have physical therapy that day.”

Clint managed a rather spectacular pout.

“Come on, man. Work with me here! Friday? Please? Nat is gonna have my balls on a platter as it is for insulting you on accident so at least give me something to beg mercy with!”

Tony pressed his lips together. He wanted it. He really, really did. He’d still have physical therapy on Saturday but at least he’d have Sunday to rest and get his homework done. It would be doable, maybe.

“I’ll ask,” he said cautiously, if only because he didn’t want to get his own hopes up.

Barton fist pumped.

“Yes! It’ll be great! You won’t regret it, I promise!”

Coulson only raised an eyebrow when he came to get them and found them still chatting away at the end of their detention that day. Tony didn’t get all his homework done, but he could manage a little bit more of it before crashing at home. He could make it happen.

.

..

…

..

.

“A dance club?”

Obie looked skeptical, but he hadn’t said no yet. Tony felt like that could only be a good sign. He’d waited till dinner to bring it up, but that was mostly because he wanted to be able to nap first.

“Yeah. And I’ll have a ride home and everything so you won’t have to worry about rescheduling the driver.”

Obie frowned and seemed to consider him for a long moment before his face softened.

“This isn’t going to change the doctor’s diagnosis, Tony. You understand that, right?”

Tony clenched his fists around his utensils. Obie didn’t mean to be hurtful. He was just trying to help and look out for Tony.

“I know. They just want me to give them some pointers, that’s all. I probably won’t even go back.”

Obie nodded.

“Alright. Text me and keep me updated, alright? I’ll be in the office so I might not respond but I want you to keep in touch.”

Tony smiled.

“I will. Promise.”

.

..

…

..

.

Clint, as Tony learned was his first name, was actually pretty hilarious once Tony didn’t completely hate him anymore. He met Tony comeback for comeback and it was a glorious thing. He was pretty passionate about dancing, too, which didn’t hurt. He loved his team, and by the time their next detention came to an end Tony felt like he could have picked any member of the Avengers out of a lineup. It was good, the first really good day Tony had had since starting at SHIELD, maybe even the first since the accident. It lasted all the way up until his physical therapy session that afternoon. He was pretty much dead for their final detention and it didn’t escape Clint’s notice.

“Dude. You look like shit. You okay?”

Tony managed to scrounge up a smile for him from where he was slumped over his open notebook and text.

“Just tired. Rumlow pushed me pretty hard yesterday.”

“Rumlow?”

“My physical therapist.”

Clint frowned.

“I’m pretty sure physical therapy isn’t supposed to leave you this wiped out, man.”

Tony couldn’t look at him.

“I’m just a lot weaker than I used to be, that’s all. I lost a lot of muscle mass in the hospital. Plus, the accident messed up my chest a bit, too. I’ve got lower lung capacity.”

“You look like you’ve got plenty of muscle mass to me. I mean, seriously, those biceps!”

He reached out to squeeze Tony’s arms and the genius couldn’t help but laugh. Clint was ridiculous. He was really looking forward to meeting the others.

.

..

…

..

.

“Oh my God, you’re Tony Stark. Tony Stark is in our studio.”

The tiny blond looked like he was torn between vibrating out of his skin and fainting outright. Tony couldn’t help but grin.

“You must be Steve.”

“Oh, my God, Tony Stark just said my name.”

A snort drew Tony’s attention to the side and he nearly choked on his tongue. The long-haired brunette was _gorgeous_ in his black leotard and the position he was in, stretching alongside an equally stunning redheaded female, put all of his best… assets on display.

“Deep breaths, Stevie. Passing out in front of your idol is _not_ a good way to make a first impression.”

“Shut up, Bucky!”

Steve’s face colored brilliantly and Clint laughed from where he was wheeling Tony along.

“It’s fine,” Tony assured Steve, instead. “Clint told me you were a fan. I’m flattered.”

“You’re amazing! Of course I’m a fan. I mean, the way you could _move_ …”

It was a struggle to keep the grin on his face at the reminder that he couldn’t move like that anymore, that he would never move like that again. He managed it, though.

“Honestly, I’m looking forward to seeing the way _you_ move.”

If anything, that only seemed to set him off more and Tony could see Steve’s bony chest heaving beneath the thin fabric of his leotard. He hoped the skinniness was more a natural thing and wasn’t Steve starving himself. He sounded like a good guy, from everything Clint had said, but Tony had seen it before. It could destroy a person as surely as any car accident.

Clint parked Tony in what he assured the genius was a good spot before heading over and joining the others. Bucky ambled over while Clint did his stretches and chatted with the redhead and another, mousy brunet. Tony was guessing they were Natasha and Bruce. Mr. ‘please call me T’Challa’ Udaku, who supervised the dance club, was across the room talking to several of the other students.

“Hey,” Bucky greeted with a sly grin. “Glad to see you could make it. Steve has told us all about you so he’s not exactly your only fan around here. Thanks for being willing to come, despite Clint being himself.”

“He seemed pretty upset after. He didn’t mean it the way I took it.”

Bucky’s grin only grew.

“Yeah, like I said, Clint being himself. You gave him one hell of a good hit, though. Very impressive. I’m a little jealous. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to punch Clint.”

Tony chuckled. Damn, gorgeous _and_ funny. He was so screwed.

“I think I can probably imagine.”

Mr. T’Challa came over briefly to chat, he’d be Tony’s science teacher for the second half of the year when he hit a new grade level, and stayed with Tony while the team went through their routine. It was pretty obviously unfinished, but that was okay. Tony understood the process. You learn the dance a step at a time and refine and master along the way.

They were nowhere near the level of the dancers Tony had worked with before but, amazingly enough, they certainly had the foundations for it. Steve paused to glance his way at the end of the first run through but Tony just waved him on to continue with their practice. He was intrigued. Beside him, Mr. T’Challa smiled as he watched the students.

“Dance is a large part of the culture in the country I come from. As a child, I danced all the time. I was afraid that I would miss that connection when I came to America, but I have found that the passion for dance is very much alive here as well.”

“Dancing is all about language,” Tony agreed. “It’s another language of communication through the movement of the body. It’s a way of spanning the globe without a single spoken word.”

Mr. T’Challa hummed as Steve paused the group to adjust some of the movements.

“Your own passion is clear. Will you give it up?”

Tony frowned, but it was getting easier the longer he was here and the longer he watched the dancers moving. Being in a studio, even a basic one like this, had always soothed him.

“I don’t have a choice. If I’m lucky, I’ll one day be able to walk with braces. I’ll never dance again.”

Mr. T’Challa looked surprised.

“There is more to dancing than just the dancers, Mr. Stark. It is your choice, of course, but I have heard much of your love and dedication to the craft. The dancing world would suffer to lose you, I should think.”

Tony’s lips thinned, but he said nothing for a long time.

“There’s a lot of classical influence here.”

“Indeed. Natasha used to do ballroom dance and she often helps Steve in designing the choreography. It is not an area either of them is very skilled at, though they do well for their experience and knowledge. A lot of the routines are adapted from ones that already exist.” The glance Mr. T’Challa sent Tony was accompanied by a smile. “Several of them have been yours.”

This, at least, brought Tony a little twinge of amusement.

“He has good taste, at least.”

“I have certainly found that to be true in most things. Steve Rogers is an exceptional young man. I have absolute faith that he will be able to achieve anything he sets his mind to.”

“Not everything in life is so easily overcome.”

Tony hadn’t meant to sound bitter but the bite in his words was unmistakable. Mr. T’Challa kindly pretended not to notice.

“Perhaps,” he allowed, “or perhaps those things that are not so easily overcome simply need to be taken on from another angle. I have found much in life can be changed through the matter of perspective.”

“Are you sure you’re a science teacher and not psychology? I think you may be in the wrong department.”

Mr. T’Challa chuckled.

“I am a high school teacher, Mr. Stark. A firm grasp of psychological principles may be the only way I make it through my job.”

“Right, well, how about you stick to analyzing the dancers and not me? Would that work for you?”

Mr. T’Challa gave a nod in his direction.

“I look forward to hearing what feedback you’ll be able to provide the team with.”

They watched the rest of the practice in silence except for Tony’s occasional questions. When Steve finally wrapped it up fifteen minutes before their usual end time, the entire team gathered in front of Tony.

“Well?”

It would have been impossible not to hear the hope in Steve’s voice.

“What is this routine for, exactly? You’re hitting a lot of technical points for just a school production.”

Steve beamed, but it was Clint who answered.

“It’s for NDTC. They’re in February but Steve and Nat spent all summer designing the new routine and we had a boot camp before the start of school to begin learning it.”

One of Tony’s eyebrows rose.

“The National Dance Team Competition? In Disney?”

“Just the high school division, obviously,” Steve rushed to assure. “I know you competed with the All-Stars but we’re nowhere near that level an-“

“You’re nowhere near the high school division, either, not with recycled routines Frankensteined together from other dances. If you want a competition to go to just for shits and giggles, then there are cheaper and easier ways to do it.”

Steve looked hurt for all of a split second before his face shut down with total determination.

“We aim to win.”

“Then you’re going to need a routine that’s original and will catch the judges’ attention. You guys have skill, even if it’s not really refined yet. There’s a real shot but not if you shut yourselves down before you get there. You wanted my advice so here it is. Not all routines were created equal. I get that this is the one you’ve been practicing and that you put a lot of effort into it but it’s still just cobbled together. You have time to learn a new routine and get it down before the competition. Cookie cutter will get you nowhere.”

The blonde’s expression shifted to looked trapped.

“But-I don’t-It took all summer just to figure out this one!”

A hand fell to Steve’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Bucky grinned at him before turning back to Tony.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. You were always bragging about how Tony choreographed all his own routines, right? So we’ve got all weekend. If we buckle down. We can make it happen.” Tony hadn’t been expecting it, but Bucky had some killer puppy dog eyes. He turned them on full force. “You’ll help, right? You’re the best and there’s no way we could do it without you. We’ve never been able to go to a serious competition before and if we blow this shot then Fury will never allow us to go to another one.”

“I have physical therapy on Saturday,” Tony protested, because this was _not_ what he had signed up for.

Bucky just rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

“Gimme your cell.” Tony reluctantly passed it over and Bucky immediately started typing away. “I’m putting my number as well as Steve’s in here. We’re dropping you off tonight anyway so we’ll know where you live. Just text us when physical therapy is over with and we’ll get Steve’s mom to bring us to pick you up.” He gave a sheepish little smile. “Finally got my license two weeks ago but I really don’t think Mrs. Rogers’ll be much interested in lending me her van.”

Steve gave an inelegant snort and jammed Bucky in the side with one boney elbow.

“No _way_ are you getting behind the wheel of mom’s van. It’s the only car we got.”

“Whatever punk,” Bucky said, shoving Steve playfully before turning back to Tony. “So you’ll do it? We can learn anything you throw our way and Steve and I started this team. We can fill you in on anything Clint’s big mouth hasn’t already.”

“Hey!”

Clint’s cry of outrage went largely ignored, Bucky holding the cell phone back out to Tony. The young genius could only stare at it dumbly, hesitating. There was a lot of promise implied with taking that phone and the last thing Tony needed was more responsibility on top of all the things he already had to take care of. On the other hand, being part of _anything_ that had to do with dancing again… He took the phone.

“I’ll have to talk to Obie. He worries about me straining myself too much. I don’t know if he’ll like it.”

Mr. T’Challa reached out to grasp Tony’s shoulder much like Bucky had just done to Steve.

“Allow me to call your guardian, Mr. Stark. Perhaps the voice of a teacher could help?”

Clint whooped excitedly and high-fived the silver-haired boy beside him. Tony was pretty sure the older boy was named Fiero or Pierre or something. It was some weird name.

“Yes! We are gonna kick so much _ass!_ This totally calls for burgers!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey and routine designs.

Obie wasn’t happy when Tony finally got home. Between the burgers and everything else it was nearly seven before Mrs. Rogers dropped him off. Obie greeted him in the foyer, arms crossed and scowling.

“I thought you said this would only be a one-time thing. You told me you didn’t think you’d be going back.”

Tony cringed. He hadn’t thought Obie would actually be _mad_. What had T’Challa said to him?

“I wasn’t expecting to,” he swore. “It’s just that they want to go to NDTC and there’s no way they’d be able to make it with their current routine without completely humiliating themselves. I’ve been there, Obie. I know what it’s like. Besides, I’m only gonna be helping them design the routine. It’s only one weekend.”

One greying eyebrow rose.

“Really? Because on the phone, Mr. Udaku seemed to think this should be more of a long-term arrangement. He made it quite clear that he felt you’d make an excellent addition to the team and would I please at least consider it. What exactly have you been saying about me, Tony?”

Tony gaped. Because no. No, that wasn’t what it was like at _all._

“No! Obie! I wouldn’t-! I just said I needed to ask your permission! Between physical therapy and my course load, there’s no way I could do a regular activity!”

Obie considered him for a long moment before sighing and rubbing at his eyes with one hand.

“Of course. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat like that.”

Tony could only nod numbly, still a little bit shaken. Obie reached out to ruffle his hair a moment later.

“Alright then, my boy. Why don’t you head on to your room, then? I’m sure you still have some homework left to do with all this activity today and you’ll need your rest for tomorrow. I called Dr. Rumlow already and he’ll be here at six in the morning to start your physical therapy session. You should be done by ten and can have your new friends pick you up at noon.” His hand moved down to the back of Tony’s neck as he gave a sad smile. “Just take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you hurt any more than you already have been.”

Tony managed a shaky smile and nodded jerkily.

“Thanks, Obie. I will.”

His godfather gave Tony’s neck a quick squeeze and then ambled off, heading for his study. Tony watched him go before heading to his own room. He should do his homework. He knew that, especially with his weekend now so full. He was thrumming with too much energy, though, between the afternoon and the confrontation with Obie. Tony wheeled straight for his desk and opened up his laptop, impatiently logging on and bringing up his messenger service. His fingers tapped against the edge of his computer as he scanned the scant usernames on his list. He beamed when he found the one he was looking for.

DancingQueen3861: hey

DancingQueen3861: you on?

AeroNut: TONES!!!!! You haven’t been on in two weeks! Where have you been?

DancingQueen3861: detention. doesn’t matter. guess what?

AeroNut: Detention?!?!?!@? For two weeks?! What did you do?

AeroNut: What?

DancingQueen3861: DANCE STUDIO

DancingQueen3861: i was at one today

AeroNut: You’re kidding!

AeroNut: That’s great!

AeroNut: Where?

DancingQueen3861: i know!!! stoked

DancingQueen3861: at school. dance team there. i got in a fight with one of the guys and we did detention together. saw their practice today. gonna help them design a new routine this weeken. theyre trying to go to NDTC

AeroNut: FIGHT?!?!?!

AeroNut: Who was it?

AeroNut: Are they pressuring you?

AeruNut: I swear, Tones, I will come down there an kick some ass if I need to.

DancingQueen3861: *rolls eyes*

DancingQueen3861: don’t be a drama queen. it was just a fight

DancingQueen3861: Clints cool anyway. no pressure. Obies pissed tho

AeroNut: About the fight? No duh, man.

AeroNut: He ground you?

DancingQueen3861: not about the fight. about the dance team

DancingQueen3861: the teacher in charge called him to ask if i could help out and idk what he said but Obie’s pissed and thinks i said something bad about him. idk

DancingQueen3861: no grounding. i still get to go help out this weekend but Rumlow at 6am :/

AeroNut: wtf

AeroNut: That makes no sense. Ask your teacher what he said.

DancingQueen3861: maybe idk

AeroNut: Seriously?! I though Rumlow came at 10 on weekends.

DancingQueen3861: yeah normally

DancingQueen3861: Obie called him to come early so i can go help with the dance stuff

AeroNut: :/

AeroNut: I still can’t believe Obie keeps that guy around.

AeroNut: You gonna be ok? That’s a lot in one day.

DancingQueen3861: he just pushes me thats all

DancingQueen3861: i need it if im ever gonna be able to even walk on my own again. you know that

AeroNut: There’s pushing and then there’s too far, Tones.

DancingQueen3861: ill be fine. its no big deal. well probably spend the whole time on the couch or something. im taking my computer

AeroNut: Will you be able to chat?

DancingQueen3861: idk

AeroNut: If you’re able to chat, I want to chat.

AeroNut: I’m worried about you, Tones.

DancingQueen3861: im fine Rhodey. promise

DancingQueen3861: but ill chat if i can tomorrow

AeroNut: Thank you.

AeroNut: How is the school work coming along?

They kept talking for a bit, Tony drifting in and out as he worked on his class work. He might have to take some with him tomorrow and work on it while they worked on the dance routine, too. He’d talked more with Steve, Natasha, and Bucky over burgers earlier so he at least had an idea of where to start. His brain was already coming up with various routes he could take. He’d figured out a while ago that choreography was like engineering for him. It just came naturally. It might turn out to be exhausting, but Tony was pretty sure tomorrow was going to be a damn good day.

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“So I heard you’ve gotten involved with the dance team at your new school.”

Tony’s spine stiffened where he was quasi-standing between two long bars, arms mostly holding him up while he painstakingly attempted to move his legs through the shooting pain. He knew that tone of voice and it was never one that ended well for him.

“Just helping with some of the choreography is all,” he hedged.

Rumlow snorted.

“Well, it’s not like you could be doing any of the dancing, the shape you’re in.” Tony felt his skin crawl under Rumlow’s gaze. “You’re moving like a snail. Come on, pick up the pace a bit. Your godfather isn’t paying me to stand here while you laze about.”

Gritting his teeth was the only way Tony kept from snapping, but he managed to drag his left foot forward another inch.

“It hurts,” he tried, even though it’d never done him any good before.

“No pain, no gain. Quit whining about it and try actually putting some real effort in for once.”

Not for the first time, Tony wished Obie hadn’t let Jarvis go when he’d ordered the Stark mansion closed up. Tony missed him nearly as much as he missed his parents. Jarvis would have known how to handle this. He would have been able to explain to Rumlow that Tony _was_ trying. He was trying just about as hard as he possibly could.

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“Holy crap!”

Steve immediately smacked both hands over his mouth and turned to look worriedly at his mother, but Sarah Rogers only had eyes for Tony. She had a hand on his forehead in an instant, not even bothering with the greetings she’d gone through the day before. Her other hand was on his wrist, two fingers pressed to Tony’s pulse point.

“Are you feeling alright, dear? Where’s your guardian? Does he know you’re sick?”

Tony shied away from her gentle touch, even though the cool hand on his forehead had felt spectacularly nice.

“I’m not sick. I just… I’m tired, is all. I had to get up early for physical therapy this morning.”

Mrs. Rogers tutted in a distinctly disapproving fashion as she gave his pale, wan appearance another once-over.

“Are you sure you’re up for helping the boys today? I wouldn’t want you to stress yourself out. It’s important to get your rest, especially on your road to recovery.”

From anyone else, Tony would have rolled his eyes and maybe even been a bit insulted. Mrs. Rogers though, he had learned the day before, was a registered nurse and actually knew what she was talking about. It’d been the first time in a long while Tony had felt comfortable talking about his condition with anyone whose job description didn’t include trying to fix him. She was comforting and warm without being pitying and Tony appreciated that more than he could possibly say.

“I’m okay, really,” and, god, it felt like he’d said that a million times lately. “Besides, it’s not like we’re going to the trampoline park.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked from where he was hovering over Mrs. Rogers’s shoulder. “Because I know I razzed you a bit about helping out but if you’re not feeling well then that’s totally okay.”

This time, Tony did roll his eyes.

“Trust me, I’m hellish to deal with when I’m sick. If I weren’t feeling well there’s nothing in the world that could have pried my out of bed. I’m just tired.”

It wasn’t even a lie. He felt exhausted. Then again, he always did whenever Rumlow was finished with him. Still, Bucky and Mrs. Rogers exchanged a glance before Mrs. Rogers pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Alright, but you’re going to have to take it easy at our house, understood? I’ll get a nice meal fixed up as soon as we get back and hopefully that will help perk you up a bit.”

Tony was pretty sure he was in love. Bucky just chuckled and bantered with Steve as he helped Tony get all loaded up into the van, stowing his wheelchair in the back. It was nobody’s business if Tony enjoyed the contact between them just a little bit more than was strictly necessary.

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The Rogers household was _awesome._ No one would ever be able to convince Tony otherwise. Mrs. Rogers had directed the boys into the living room, where there were boxes and boxes full of tapes that, upon investigation, Tony found were all recordings of different dance competitions and performances. There was one box devoted entirely to Tony himself, which maybe should have made him feel weird but mostly just made him feel warm and fuzzy. Steve already had notebooks laid out across the beat up coffee table along with a laptop that was probably from the nineties. Tony was a bit surprised it still worked, but they’d made them so much sturdier back then. Could it even connect to the internet? Certainly not wirelessly. God, that monstrosity must run at a glacial pace.

Bucky threw himself down on the couch, legs splayed out with no concern about taking up the entire piece of furniture. Steve pushed the overstuffed armchair a bit closer and then flopped into it, spine straight and legs bouncing like an excited kid who knew he was getting a treat but had to wait for it. Tony couldn’t help but like him just a little bit more for it.

“Okay, so where do we start? I mean, Nat and I usually have some idea already and then we just start pulling tapes and yanking out what we want from each one. You said this had to be more original, though.”

Tony twisted around to pull his backpack off of his wheelchair and Steve jumped up in a heartbeat to help. Somehow, the move was more endearing than irritating like it normally would have been.

“Thanks,” he said as he pulled his own sleek, state of the art laptop from inside. “I’ve got some programs on here I usually use when designing a new routine. It helps me keep track of everything. The process isn’t too dissimilar to the one you’ve already been using except we won’t go cherry picking. We’ll pick the style and the music and then move on to the actual moves. Yesterday it sounded like your team appreciated a more traditional style. Would you say that’s true?”

He glanced up at Steve and the blonde nodded eagerly.

“Some of the team can do more of the break dancing and that sort of thing but overall we tend to stick more to the traditional. Natasha has been doing classical ballet since she could walk and Wanda will take any excuse to do ballroom. Her brother Pietro can pull off just about any move you could ask for, though. He’s amazing. And Bucky can tick really well.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and looked to Bucky, still sprawled across the couch and paying attention with what looked like only mild interest.

“You can?”

Ticking was difficult. Tony had never quite been able to master all the elements of it himself. There was just a certain flow to the movements that kept giving Tony trouble. The technique used a combination of slow, smooth movements paired with quick jerks or ‘ticks’ that created an illusion of an old-time video reel. It was a wonder to watch.

“Yep,” Bucky drawled, popping the ‘p’ on the end. “Clint’s half-way decent at it, too. We’re working on it.”

“Can you show me?”

Tony gestured toward to empty space between the coffee table and the TV and Bucky sat up in surprise.

“What? Now?”

There wasn’t a ton of room, but there was certainly enough for some basic ticking. Most of the moves required minimum space anyway.

“Yeah,” Tony said, perking right up. “C’mon. Show me what you got.”

Bucky grinned crookedly and hooked one thumb in the waistband of his pants as he rose.

“Why, Mr. Stark, I wasn’t expecting you to be quite so forward.”

Tony snorted. Steve groaned and dropped his face into his hands, the tips of his ears bright red.

“Oh, my God, Buck. Please tell me you didn’t.”

“What?” Bucky said innocently, sending Tony a wink. “All I did was let this fine specimen know exactly what he could be in for.”

Steve let out a strangled noise of pure mortification.

“My idol is in my living room and you are _hitting on him_ , Bucky.”

Tony couldn’t help but return the gesture when Bucky grinned widely at him.

“Yeah? And? He’s hot. I’m hot. Seems like a perfect match to me.”

Steve peeked out from behind his hands to glare viciously. Then he reared up to shout towards the kitchen.

“Mom! Bucky’s making moves on Tony!”

“ _James Buchanan Barnes!_ What have I told you about making sexual overtures towards my guests?”

Bucky gaped at Steve in horror.

“I did not!” Then he was whirling on Tony. “I didn’t! I just flirted!”

There was no way Tony could do anything else but snicker. It turned into uncontrollable giggling when Mrs. Rogers stormed into the room not a second later, apron still on and expression thunderous. Bucky all but leaped across the coffee table to hide behind Tony.

“I didn’t!” he cried again.

Mrs. Rogers cast a critical eye over Bucky before glancing Tony’s way where he was shaking and trying not to cry with laughter. That, at least, seemed to appease her that there had been no wrongdoing.

“Make sure you don’t,” she said, turning to head back into the kitchen.

Bucky glared bloody murder at Steve.

“That was low, punk.”

Steve didn’t look even the least bit repentant.

“You deserved it. Now show off your ticking for us so we can get back to business.”

Bucky grumbled but moved to the center of the open space anyway.

“You’re lucky your ma’s an amazing cook, Stevie, I swear.”

He closed his eyes and Tony could see him mentally counting a beat in his head for several seconds before he started moving. His movements _flowed._ While he’d been a good dancer the day before in practice, it was nothing compared to the skill he showed now. Tony gaped at him, then whirled on Steve.

“And you’re not _using_ this?”

Steve held up his hands in defense.

“I could never really find a good place for it.”

Bucky cocked a hip to the side and looked decidedly smug.

“I do parkour, too.”

Tony’s mind was already whirring as he pieced together this new information with everything he already knew. He hastily logged onto his computer.

“Wanda doesn’t know how to tick, right? Do you think she could learn?”

Both other boys frowned at him in confusion.

“I guess,” Steve said hesitantly. “It’s really not her style, though. Pietro, no problem, but Wanda…”

“Great! Okay. What about Natasha? And that other girl. What’s her name? Holly?”

“Hope!”

“Yes!”

Steve was starting to look deeply skeptical.

“They could probably handle it, I think.”

Tony clapped excitedly and then swiped across his screen to get his program up and running.

“Alright, so I was actually experimenting with ticking a bit before my accident,” Tony confessed. “I wanted to see if I could blend it in with some other styles. One of the styles I was working with,” he smirked, “was ballroom dance.”

There was no denying the gleam in their eyes. Bucky grinned.

“So you _are_ a genius.”

Tony wiggled a little in his wheelchair, his excitement at having a new project overcoming some of his exhaustion.

“You want to see some _real_ genius, just wait until you get a load of this. VISION, time to get up!”

There was a short pause as he leaned forward to set the laptop on the coffee table.

Then, “Good afternoon, Sir,” Jarvis’s crisp, British accent rang out. “What may I do for you today? Shall I load an existing routine or do you wish to design a new one?”

Tony beamed at Steve and Bucky’s stunned expressions.

“New one, V. Title it, _Avengers NDTC Competition._ ” Then he turned to his companions. “Guys, meet VISION. I designed him to help me come up with all of my routines and get them worked out in a digital format on the computer. If you have any recordings of the team dancing V can scan it and calculate exactly what each dancer should be able to do and how they would do it so the rendering will be as realistic as possible.”

He was being gaped at rather spectacularly and Tony couldn’t help but preen with pride. He knew he was good at what he did. Most of the people who knew him for his dancing overlooked that he was still a Stark and a technological genius. Howard had always intended that Tony would take over the business and that his dancing was just something to do on the side. Tony had just been counting on that day to be a long way off. Now he’d be taking charge of SI the day he turned twenty-one.

“Are you serious?” Bucky asked, eyeing the computer skeptically.

Tony grinned.

“I’ve been writing code since I was, like, five or something. This was a piece of cake.”

Which it completely wasn’t. It was incredibly hard and had taken Tony three years to get done but had been worth every second. He was more grateful now than ever that Jarvis had agreed to supply all of the voice clips since it was just about the only way he heard the butler’s voice anymore.

“Is this…normal?” Steve asked, leaning forward and staring at the screen. “Will the other teams be using programs like this to develop their routines?”

Tony snorted.

“They may use computer programs but they’ll be nothing like this. I designed this baby myself. VISION is the only one of his kind.”

“As ever, Sir, you flatter me.”

Steve jumped, but Bucky just leaned forward eagerly.

“Dude, this is so cool! It’s like it’s an artificial intelligence or something. It’s not gonna go Skynet on us, is it?”

“VISION isn’t anywhere near that level yet. He’s a learning AI, though, so he’ll grow with time. Now, let’s get cracking, shall we? Again, I’m thinking ticking-ballroom dance combo for the opener. Maybe salsa? The waltz is classic but so overdone. Three pairs to start off and then we can bring out the rest of the team and change it up a little.”

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Tony ended up drifting off at some point in the late afternoon, his exhaustion getting the best of him. He couldn’t quite remember, but he may have even drifted off mid-sentence. He was only half-aware of someone lifting him out of his wheelchair and laying him across the couch. A blanket was pulled over him as a deep voice murmured for him to sleep well. In the background, he barely even registered Mrs. Rogers calling Obie to ask if Tony could spend the night.

He was in and out after that, though Mrs. Rogers roused him to at least eat a sandwich for dinner. Bucky stayed pretty much glued to his side and kept him from falling asleep again during the meal. He didn’t miss their concerned glances but he could deal with them later. For now, he just wanted to get back to sleep. He got about half the sandwich down before he fell asleep again on Bucky’s shoulder. The warmth felt nice.

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Tony awoke in the small hours of the morning feeling like his bladder was going to explode. He blinked blearily and shifted a bit, only to realize he wasn’t in his bed. He was laid out across the couch at Steve’s house, Bucky under him like a human body pillow. The older boy sniffed a bit in his sleep and grumbled, his brow furrowing a bit. Tony couldn’t help but think it was cute. He couldn’t enjoy the sight for long, though, because nature was calling and getting a little impatient.

Tony painstakingly hauled himself off the couch until he was crouched next to the coffee table and then dragged himself past the armchair to where his wheelchair sat. As soon as he was situated, he set off in search of the bathroom. The entire house was dark and silent, a little bit eerie at whatever ass o’clock of the morning it actually was. He found the bathroom down the hallway and gave a sigh of relief. The maneuvering was a little difficult, but he managed to make it happen.

The real problem came when he got back to the couch. Bucky was stretched out across the entire thing, drooling on the armrest and, while he’d technically just been there, he couldn’t quite bring himself to crawl back into Bucky’s lap for the rest of the night. The floor seemed equally unappealing. With a glance around, Tony settled on the armchair as his best option. He pulled himself into it, manually moved his legs up over one of the armrests, and wrapped himself up in his jacket. He was asleep again in minutes. He’d need the rest if he wanted to avoid Rhodey’s wrath for not getting online today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys! Another one is up! Let me know what you think! Also, give my betas your thanks because this would have never happened without them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony starts helping out the team... and they start to ask some questions.

“I hate you,” Wanda said as Tony corrected her form a minute bit for the hundredth time. “I hope you know that.”

Tony grinned at her.

“It’s only the first practice. You haven’t had time to properly come to hate me yet. Talk to some of the backup dancers I used for my world competition routines. That’s real loathing, there. I’m pretty sure one of the flower arrangements Victor sent me while I was in the hospital actually contained poison ivy.”

Which wasn’t a joke, but Victor had been the exception to the rule. Most of his dancers had been amazing and sweet. Like Pepper, who still visited every chance she got around training and competitions which, admittedly, wasn’t often. He still appreciated the effort, though. It helped remind him that he wasn’t so alone as he often felt.

“Just be grateful he stayed to help,” Bucky quipped from where he was working with Clint and Pietro. “He totally tried to dip out on us and then you’d be stuck with Steve and his panicking.”

Steve cried out his indignation but he couldn’t exactly deny it when he’d practically thrown himself into Tony’s lap to demand he stay for rehearsals. Apparently, he’d been of the same mindset as Mr. T’Challa that Tony agreeing to help design the routine also meant he was signing up to help with the team learning said routine as well. Tony had finally agreed to at least help the team get started. He wasn’t sure he’d even last out the week between his class load, physical therapy, and the practices after school.

“You’ll all have the routine down in no time,” Tony promised them. “Then it’ll just be tweaking it here or there until you can make it look effortless.”

Wanda’s glare didn’t let up but the practice continued pretty well none-the-less. Tony had been right that first practice. The team had promise, even if it wasn’t polished up all the way. Sure, there were only a few on the team who had a hope of getting to the big leagues, however all but a couple of them would have a real shot at having a professional career. Tony knew Off Broadway dancers who didn’t have half the talent of Bucky or Clint. Steve, despite not having the strength and muscle mass to even hope to pull off lifts and some of the more advanced gymnastic moves, was incredibly graceful once he started dancing. He could twirl and spin without ever showing a hint of dizziness. Tony already had designs to get him started with some altered break dancing moves that would suit his frame.

It was only the first day but Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this alive. It certainly hadn’t been since the accident. He found himself smiling and laughing, even forgetting that later that day he’d be in the manor’s gym with Rumlow, forgetting that he’d barely managed to get his homework done and that was only because Monday had a lighter load. None of that seemed to matter in the face of being in the studio and being productive again. Maybe Tony wasn’t doing any of the actual dancing but he was still there and still a part of things. It was an amazing feeling.

“Come on, Wanda,” Natasha added as she tried her move again, watching herself closely in the mirrors so she could work out the difficulties she was having with her lower-body movements, “even you have to admit that mock-up looked fantastic. If we want to win this thing, we have to give it everything we’ve got. Tony gives us an advantage we’ve never had before.”

She gave a flash of teeth that was downright terrifying as she pulled the move off perfectly. Tony was pretty sure she put human blood on her morning cereal instead of milk. He was also pretty sure that, even though she was one of the only members of the team who was both old enough to drive and had a car, no one ever asked her for a ride because there might be a dead body in the trunk.

“Some advantage,” Wanda sniffed. “It won’t help us much if we can’t learn the damn routine.”

Tony just kept right on grinning.

“As I said, it’s just the first practice. You’ve got time. There’s a reason I kept things pretty simple. If we can ramp it up before the competition, then we will. The judges will be more interested in technique than flash, though. Just be thankful this is a national competition instead of an international one. You won’t be going up against anyone like Royal Family or Bubblegum.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can slack off,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his scrawny chest and sending his most intimidating look towards the team. “There will be teams there who have been competing for years and who know everything that there is to know about this competition. We have to be at the top of our game if we want to be taken seriously.”

There were nods all around and Tony was a little in awe of the way Steve seemed to be able to so easily inspire his team. Steve was younger than most of them, and definitely the smallest of all of them. He was nice but he wasn’t exactly brimming with an unbelievable amount of knowledge or skill. There was just something about him that made people want to follow him, though. There were very few groups Tony had led where he’d been able to connect with his dancers on that level and every time it’d been because of Tony’s experience and credentials. This was something entirely different.

“Well, you heard the man,” he said, turning back to Wanda. “Let’s try that move again.”

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Tony didn’t join the team after practice, instead heading straight home. It’d been one of Obie’s conditions for allowing him to help out with the team. On days that Tony had physical therapy he needed to come straight home from the dance team. There was just too much to do. He wasn’t expecting Obie to be waiting for him when he got back, though. Normally, his godfather would still be at the office.

“I’ve been thinking about this whole dance team situation.”

Dread curled in Tony’s stomach and sat there like a brick.

“Yeah?”

Obie paused, giving Tony an odd look before bursting out into chuckles and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“No need to look so scared, my boy. I’m not going to make you quit.”

Tony looked up at where Obie was towering over him, surprised.

“You’re not?”

Obie ruffled his hair again before withdrawing his hand.

“No. I’ve been thinking about it over the weekend and I realize that I reacted poorly to your teacher’s call. It was just very upsetting to feel like I was being accused of…” Obie seemed to struggle with finding the right words before finally just giving up and moving on. “I only want what’s best for you, Tony. You know that, don’t you?”

Tony nodded along numbly, not sure exactly where this was going.

“Of course.”

“I was worried that being around dancing again would hurt you. I thought you might see what you’ve lost and it’d just tear you up all over again.” Obie was frowning and Tony didn’t dare let any of the pain cross his face in case it made Obie feel worse. “Clearly, it’s done just the opposite and I don’t want to stand in the way of that. I think you should stay on with the dance team, at least until the competition but maybe even past that, if you’re still enjoying it.”

Tony gaped at him.

“But physical therapy and my class load-“

Obie held up a hand to stop his protests and Tony shut his mouth.

“It’s a lot to do all together, too much. I don’t want you getting sick or backtracking on all the progress you’ve made just because you’ve taken on more than you can handle. That’s why I called your school today and talked to your principal. We were able to come to an agreement, since your supplementary classes only last half of each semester. You’ll finish the courses you have now, which I know will be a lot, but it’s only for a couple of weeks. Then we can set it up so you’ll only take one extra class at a time, or none at all!” Obie beamed at him. “You could have a completely normal high school experience, if you wanted.”

Panic welled up inside Tony, threatening to bubble over. He could just hear his dad in the back of his head, making it known _exactly_ how he felt about this plan. He’d always been clear on exactly what the conditions were for Tony being able to continue dancing. Tony was meant to take over the company and that meant he had to have the knowledge and degrees to do so. If Tony had ever let his grades slip, his dancing would be the first thing to go.

“I can’t!”

Obie’s brow furrowed as if he couldn’t fathom where this was coming from.

“Why not? Don’t you want to be involved with the dance team? I thought you loved dancing.”

“I did,” Tony rushed to say. “I do. I just-I mean, what about SI? I have to stay on track and I’m already behind! That’s why we’ve been playing so much catch up in the first place, so I can graduate by sixteen and still make it into MIT a bit early. Dad wanted me to have at least two doctorates before I took over and-“

One of Obie’s large hands fell heavily on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing it firmly.

“Your dad isn’t here anymore, Tony, and he isn’t making the rules,” Obie said gently, even as his words cut through Tony like knives. “This is a very different situation. You’ve been through enough. You deserve the ability to just be a kid. Leave SI to me, alright? However long it takes, you can be sure it’s in good hands. It’s time you did what you wanted to do, Tony, and right now that seems to be this dance team. If I’m wrong, just tell me now and I’ll drop the whole thing but I hate the thought of having to stand by and watch as you drive yourself into the ground because of Howard’s memory… and Howard would hate it, too.”

He gives Tony’s shoulder another squeeze as Tony ducks his head in an attempt to hide his tears. The genius wipes roughly at his eyes.

“I don’t want to feel like I’m disappointing him,” he confessed. “I want to make him proud.”

Obie’s hand moved to tilt Tony’s face back up.

“Then let yourself have a life, my boy. I’ll take care of the rest. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Tony gave him a wobbly smile before Obie moved to the back of his wheelchair to take him to the gym for physical therapy before announcing he would be sticking around to watch the day’s session. Rumlow usually disapproved of Tony getting other people to help him move around, but he didn’t make any comment that day. He didn’t push Tony any harder for it, either, which was a minor miracle all on its own. Tony didn’t doubt that Rumlow would get him back later.

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Tuesday afternoon, there was someone in the practice room who Tony had never met before. He was tan, with shoulder-length blond hair and muscles that would make a linebacker jealous. He also smiled so brightly when he spotted Tony that the genius thought he should have brought sunglasses.

“Greetings! You must be the Tony I have heard so much about!”

Tony chose to blame his tiredness for his hesitation in answering.

“Uh…I guess so?”

The blond gave an inexplicably triumphant laugh.

“Well met, indeed! Fortune smiles upon us this day!”

A snort sounded from behind Tony’s wheelchair and then suddenly Bucky was there, resting his crossed arms on top of Tony’s backpack and leaning forward so he could send a sideways glance at Tony.

“Thor is the President of the theatre club. I’m sure you can see why. We team up sometimes when he needs dancers for a production and he doubles as our costume designer for performances.”

“Verily! And I have heard much about you since my acquaintance with the good Steve! Since your arrival, I have heard even more as Bucky has shared his heartfelt feelings of infatuation!”

Bucky sputtered and reared back, face completely red.

“Thor!”

The blond behemoth continued to smile without even a hint of shame.

“What? You cannot tell me your feelings are not true, my friend! I have seen the light in your eyes as you regaled me with tales of Tony’s adorable mannerisms and charming demeanor! I seek only to further your worth as a lover in his eyes, by knowing you speak so highly of him even when he’s not around.”

“God damn it, Thor! Just shut up already!”

Thor, for the first time, seemed to realize that something might be amiss. His eyes darted back and forth between Bucky’s flushed face and Tony’s gaping one before understanding finally sunk in.

“You did not know,” he directed toward Tony in a not-quite-question before becoming a bit flustered himself. “My apologies. I had thought Bucky had already expressed his affections towards you himself. It was not my place to claim such an honor. It was simply that Bucky’s words held such fire as he spoke of you. I did not imagine that it was something he could possibly hold back.”

The entire team was staring at them, Clint snickering behind his hand while Bruce was rubbing the bridge of his nose in an exasperated fashion.

“Um… right,” Tony managed. “I kinda got that part, about you not knowing.”

“But I can assure you he is an excellent lover,” Thor hastened to add, ignoring Bucky’s, “Oh, God, please stop!” “Not that I have partaken of him myself, of course. I am faithfully devoted to my lady Jane, but it would be clear to a blind man the passion Bucky holds within his heart. It has burned ever brighter for his infatuation with you. You could find no better man and I urge you to at least consider accepting his advances, should he ever muster up the courage to court you for himself.”

Bucky groaned and dropped his face into his hands.

“I am regretting telling you about this so much right now.”

Thor only beamed ever brighter and slapped Bucky’s back good-naturedly.

“Then you should not have masturbated in the theatre’s prop room. Now,” he proclaimed, turning back to Tony, “Steve has told me you would know better than anyone the regulations that these costumes must meet for the performance at NDTC. While it should be simple enough for me to make the costumes, I have others to design and handle for the theatre club and I do not wish to incur any conflicts so the sooner I can get started, the better.”

He then pulled out a sketchbook and a pencil from his satchel and looked at Tony expectantly. Tony was still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.

“R-right,” he stammered out. Jesus Christ, had Thor just insinuated that Bucky had been jerking off to thoughts of _Tony?_ Just the mental image of Bucky jerking off was enough to shut down most of Tony’s brain function. He cleared his throat in a desperate bid to buy himself some time and resolutely refused to look in Bucky’s direction. “They’ll need to match, at least mostly. There can be some variation but most teams just stick with all the same. Black’s hotter but it helps smooth out rough edges in the movements and it goes with everyone’s skin tone so that’s usually a safe bet. Freedom of movement is also very important but there are rules about coverage, mostly because of some all-girl teams a couple of years ago, when the hip hop competitions started getting really big, who really believed in the ideal that less is more.”

Thor hummed and jotted down some notes as Tony talked, casting a thoughtful look around the room.

“But the leotards, they would be acceptable?”

Tony’s eyebrows rose.

“Uh, yeah. Totally. The full-length ones and the three-quarter length ones would both be fine. The classic leotard without pants would have to be covered on the bottom, though.”

Thor nodded with a small grin.

“I have an idea, then. I shall make some sketches and come back on Friday to get your opinion of them. Farewell, Tony!”

And then he was gone, sweeping out of the door and seeming to take half of the light in the room with him. Tony stared.

“Is he… always like that?”

Clint snorted.

“Thor? Oh, yeah. He’s usually not so vindictive, though.” Here, he turned on Bucky. “Were you really jacking off in the prop room?”

Bucky glared and punched Clint in the arm, hard.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, my God, you _were!_ ”

Steve interceded before the violence could escalate, clapping his hands loudly.

“Well! That was quite a way to start things off but let’s see if we can’t focus on the routine from here on out for the day, yeah? We’ve got a long way to go and we’ve already lost enough time. Let’s get moving, people!”

After that, it was a whirlwind of activity, the team splitting up into groups in order to practice their moves. Tony had included pieces of the performance that would play to each of their strengths and that meant they would all be the focus of attention at one point of the performance or another, even more so than just by being on stage. They would have to know every part perfectly, but in those places where they were highlighted they would have to shine.

Tony moved from group to group, giving pointers and advice as he could. There was plenty to give this early in the game. Tony was very aware that he was handing these dancers moves that they had never done before, but he had every confidence that they would be able to handle it. If he had known them for longer, if he knew them better, he might even push them harder. He still might, later on down the road. By the end of the practice, he’d talked to every single dancer on the team. Except Bucky.

Tony couldn’t even seem to look at the other dancer. Every time he so much as glanced in Bucky’s direction, Tony could feel heat crawling up the back of his neck. He’d probably turn bright red if he actually had to have a conversation with the older boy with the rest of the team watching. There was little doubt in Tony’s mind that they _would_ be watching, too, after Thor’s little show earlier. If it were Tony, he’d definitely be watching.

None of that meant Tony didn’t want to talk to Bucky, though. He absolutely did. Whatever Thor’s intentions, Bucky’s reaction to his statements certainly made it clear that it wasn’t all some joke Thor had made up. That, more than anything else, made Tony really, _really_ want to talk to Bucky. He wanted to figure out just exactly what it was Bucky was looking for from him. He definitely knew what he wanted from Bucky but it wasn’t something he wanted aired out in front of the entire team. If he and Bucky were going to talk, he’d prefer it to be in private. He was overjoyed to see Bucky lingering after the practice, doing extra stretches and puttering around without changing while the others packed up and headed out to go for burgers. Tony figured there was no reason why he couldn’t piddle around, too.

“I wasn’t sure you’d stick around,” Bucky confessed as the last of the team slipped out of the room, Steve casting a glance back at them over his shoulder.

Tony shrugged.

“Well, I did. Here I am.”

He felt awkward now, not quite sure what to say. How exactly did one go about asking someone else to declare their intentions? Was there a handbook for this? There should totally be a handbook. Someone should write one of those because he had no idea what he was doing.

“Right. That’s… That’s good.”

God, Bucky sounded every bit as awkward as Tony felt.

“Yeah,” Tony drew out. “I figured it might be good if we talked. You know, after Thor.”

Bucky’s lips pulled downward in a scowl.

“I’ll get him back for that. He usually isn’t so much of an asshole but you can be sure he’ll regret it.”

Tony could feel his own lips turning up in a smile.

“It seemed like he was getting _you_ back,” he said, and had the great pleasure of seeing Bucky blush all over again.

Bucky’s gaze skated off to the side, refusing to meet Tony’s own.

“Yeah, well, I was… frustrated.”

Amusement overrode Tony’s awkwardness and his small smile slipped into a teasing grin. He leaned forward a bit to rest his chin on one hand, his elbow propped up on his armrest.

“Frustrated, huh?”

Bucky definitely _looked_ frustrated. He grit his teeth and only gave Tony a quick glance before huffing and scowling more.

“Yeah, frustrated. I mean, shit, Tony! Have you even looked in a mirror? How am I supposed to look at you every day and _not_ think about… things!”

“Things?” Tony asked leadingly, ignoring Bucky’s dark look. “What sort of things?”

“You know what sort of things.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Maybe I just want to hear you say it.”

This time, Bucky did look at him, really looked at him. Tony could see the moment it clicked for Bucky that Tony wasn’t doing this just to torture him. He could see the calculation in Bucky’s eyes when he realized that Tony might actually be interested in the same ‘things’ Bucky was interested in.

“Well,” he hedged, “I suppose it’s a whole assortment of things. Some of them are, admittedly, less than chivalrous.”

Tony’s heart pounded in his chest. Adrenaline raced through his veins. He really hoped that the hidden promise in Bucky’s words was promising the very things Tony wanted. Sex would be great, would be _fantastic_ , but to be perfectly honest Tony was just as enamored by the thought of Bucky’s larger frame curling around his own and holding him close. He’d never dated someone before but he would be more than interested in giving it a shot with Bucky. Sure, Bucky was sixteen and Tony was fourteen but two years wasn’t that much of a gap. Tony was used to hanging out and working with people who were far older than himself.

“I kind of got that bit,” he said, keeping his voice as casual as he possibly could, “what with the whole Thor catching you masturbating in the prop room thing.”

Bucky groaned and dropped his face into his hands for a long moment before he managed to pull himself back together.

“Alright. Yeah. Let’s just lay it all out here.” Bucky took a deep, fortifying breath. “I’ve thought you were gorgeous for ages, what with Stevie showing me all the tapes of you dancing over the years. I mean, at first I just really admired your dancing, obviously, but then… Well, things changed, I guess,” he said with a little self-deprecating laugh. “I started watching your ass more than your form. And _then_ ” here, his expression turned a bit manic, a bit bewildered, “you showed up _here_ at our _school_ and you had agreed to help us and you turn out to be smart and funny but you still have this little shy hesitation that’s just fucking adorable and I _can’t take it!_ Jesus, Tony! Do you have any idea the Hell you put a guy through?”

Tony was sitting up again, startled by Bucky’s outburst. Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.

“Uh, I… No?”

Bucky made an inarticulate noise of frustration before heaving a sigh and crossing the room to thunk down on one of the benches lining the wall. Tony cautiously wheeled himself over until his knees here nearly brushing Bucky’s.

“Bucky?”

“I like you, okay? A lot. And I’d like you to be mine. I wanna do all that stupid shit like walk you to your classes and watch movies on my couch with you on Saturday nights and buy you flowers even though you’re not a girl and-“

“That’s okay,” Tony cut him off with a smile, his cheeks aching with how broad his grin was. “I still like flowers.”

Bucky’s face lit up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony glanced down at his lap. “I, um-It won’t be quite normal, though. With my legs, I-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky said, clearly taking it as his turn to cut off Tony. “Not to me, at least. Whatever you need, I’ll make it happen. This is you saying yes, right? You’ll go out with me?”

Tony bit his lip and nodded.

“I’ll still have physical therapy and classwork and everything but… yeah. This is me saying yes.”

Bucky’s hands were warm when they cupped Tony’s cheeks and his lips were soft when he kissed them. Obie had said that Tony should do what made him happy, right? Well, this was definitely something that made him happy. Maybe giving the ‘normal kid’ lifestyle a shot wouldn’t be so bad after all.

.

..

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Tony spent the rest of the afternoon all but attached to Bucky’s side. He’d transferred from his wheelchair to the booth at the diner the team always went to, Clint claiming the wheelchair enthusiastically as his own seat for the meal. Being in the booth meant that Tony could lean into Bucky, though, and Bucky seemed just as happy with the ability to keep his arm wrapped around Tony’s shoulders at all times.

Clint had, of course, opened his mouth to comment as soon as he set eyes on the new couple but Natasha had elbowed him viciously in the side before he could make an ass out of himself. The others offered their congratulations but moved quickly onto other topics. Tony was sure there would be plenty of teasing to come but, for now, he was appreciative of the time given so that he and Bucky could adjust. He certainly didn’t want Bucky rethinking his decision because he got overwhelmed by the team.

Tony’s exhaustion from physical therapy the day before was catching up to him, though, and he slumped more and more against Bucky as time passed. Bucky’s only reaction was to shift his arm to stroke Tony’s neck and play with the tips of his hair. It felt nice. Tony didn’t even mind the knowing glances that were being exchanged all around the table. He was comfortable and warm and full of burger and fries.

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, nosing at the top of his head, “Steve’s mom just got here. You ready to go?”

Tony made a noise of affirmation and reluctantly peeled himself away from Bucky’s side. He shuffled his way down the booth before lifting himself into his wheelchair, which Bruce was helpfully holding steady for him. Tony sent the other boy a thankful grin before slumping down again and letting his eyes slip shut.

“God, I’m tired.”

A large hand ghosted over Tony’s own before giving it a squeeze and letting go. Moments later, Tony’s wheelchair started moving. He cracked his eyes open a bit and tilted his head back to see Bucky at the helm, looking a bit concerned.

“You almost always seem tired. I mean, I know we haven’t actually known each other that long, but…”

Tony shifted a bit as they approached Mrs. Rogers’ van, the woman smiling at them as she opened the back to stow Tony’s chair.

“I know. It’s just physical therapy on top of all my classwork. It’s a lot. I’ll be taking it a bit easier as soon as I can get my current extra classes done.”

Bucky was still frowning a bit.

“You mentioned your physical therapy before, on Saturday. And Clint said something about you coming to dentition the day after your sessions looking like an utter wreck.”

Mrs. Rogers had perked up now, listening to their conversation instead of greeting them like she normally did. Tony’s lips pressed into a line.

“Rumlow just pushes me, is all,” he said, just as he had when Clint had been so interested. “I need to get certain things done if I want to improve and he makes sure I perform as well as I can.”

Something in Mrs. Rogers’ expression pinched.

“Rumlow? Is that your therapist?”

“Yeah.”

She hummed, nodding a bit as Bucky lifted Tony out of the chair so Steve and Mrs. Rogers could load it up.

“That sounds so familiar… You wouldn’t happen to know his first name, would you?”

Tony frowned, trying to remember through the sludge that was filling his brain.

“Umm… Brad? Brock? Something like that, at least. I only ever call him Rumlow.”

She nodded again, more decisively.

“That’s alright. I was just curious. Let’s load up and get you all home, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half-way there, guys!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First dates and worlds ending

The next two and a half weeks until Tony finished his online classes were exhausting but also some of the best weeks in his life. Bucky seemed to materialize out of nowhere at every spare moment. Tony was actually beginning to develop a theory that Bucky could teleport since he seemed able to pop up at the door for each of Tony’s classes before Tony managed to make it out of the room. The first Wednesday morning he’d even shown up after the first class with flowers, much to Tony’s delight.

There were plenty of whispers in the first few days, but they died down afterwards. Actually, it seemed that being seen with Bucky on such a regular basis was actually improving Tony’s social standing. It wasn’t that Bucky was particularly popular, Tony had just always been an outsider before that. He’d been different not only because of his wheelchair but because of his age and his intelligence in his classes. Seeing him with Bucky humanized him to his classmates.

It wasn’t entirely their fault for reacting that way, either. Tony hadn’t done anything to contradict their view of him. He hadn’t reached out or tried to make friends when he started at SHIELD. He’d been too bitter for that, still wrapped up in what had happened to him and all that he had lost. He’d actively rebuffed his classmates who had been willing to give him a chance.

Tony hadn’t even realized at the time that he was reacting in such an aggressive way. He’d known he was being antisocial, for certain, but it’d never occurred to him how much his behavior fed those rumors he hated so much. It was no wonder he’d launched himself at Clint that day in the library when, looking back, he’d been snapping at everyone who gave him so much as half an excuse. He’d hated that so much had been taken away from him and he’d refused to let anything or anyone else in because his misery had consumed every part of his life.

In all likelihood, Tony would have just continued along that path until there was no going back. The only reason Clint had managed to break through was because of the dance team and the offer for Tony to get back into a studio, even if he wouldn’t be dancing. Then of course, Clint being Clint, he’d taken that minuscule crack and wedged a crowbar into it. He and the rest of the team had loosened the barrier Tony had created between himself and the world, until Bucky managed to break the whole thing wide open.

Even if things hadn’t exactly magically gotten better with Tony’s classmates, they still seemed wary of him, but the worst of the rumors had petered out. Tony could already tell there were a few people he might actually get along with if he put in the effort to make those friendships, like Jan in his Discrete Math and Statistics class. On the other hand, he was still pretty sure he would never, ever like that Richards asshole. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Bucky was awesome and amazing and Tony wasn’t going to let him go for anything.

So far, they hadn’t been on an actual date yet but that was okay, given Tony’s schedule. They still spent time together near-constantly. Bucky even spent his lunches with Tony in the library, playing around on the computer while Tony got his homework done so he’d actually make it to the end of his classes without failing. There’d been promises, though, now that Tony was done with his extra class load. His final assignments weren’t technically due till midnight but he’d already submitted them.

He had physical therapy tonight, which was going to be Hell, he knew, but he was actually excited to get to it as early as possible. No homework and a Saturday without physical therapy meant Bucky had all but begged for an all-day date. Tony couldn’t have denied him if he wanted to. Still, the sooner he started physical therapy, the sooner it would be over and he could go to bed. He planned to be up bright and early to get ready for the day tomorrow.

Rumlow was scowling when he entered the gym where Tony was already stretching and trying to get himself as ready as possible. That was never a good sign, but it wasn’t enough to dampen Tony’s good mood. He was nervous for the date, sure, but he was excited more than anything else. It was like his first major dance performance all over again. Rumlow glared.

“And what are you smiling for?”

Tony bit his lip and looked down.

“Nothing, really. Things are just going really well with the dance team, I guess. I’ve been enjoying it.”

He hadn’t told Obie about Bucky yet. He sure as Hell wasn’t about to tell Rumlow. He was pretty sure his trainer wouldn’t approve of him wasting time or would think he was just trying to use Bucky to do things for him. Rumlow just snorted derisively and dumped his bag in its usual spot.

“I guess I should have expected something like this.”

There was something in Rumlow’s voice that probably should have acted as a warning, but Tony had never been very good about keeping his mouth shut.

“What?”

“You, with this whole dance team thing. I should have expected you to give up on your therapy the second a distraction came along.”

Tony reared back, startled.

“What? No! I’m not-“

“Of course you are,” Rumlow waved him off. “Talked your own godfather into letting you slack off in school, too, from the way I hear it.”

“That’s not how it happened! I’m not slacking!”

“Aren’t you? I seem to remember you being signed up for extra classes because a genius like you would get _bored_ in just advanced classes. You told me you had a schedule all planned out so you could graduate early and go to MIT. I guess that particular goal wasn’t nearly as important to you as you claimed.”

Tony’s jaw worked as he struggled to find words, to find a way to deny what Rumlow was saying because _no!_ That was so not what was happening! It was true he was enjoying the break from having so much on his plate and he was looking forward to not having such a large class load on top of the dance team stuff but that didn’t mean he was slacking off, right?

“I didn’t… I’m still going to put in the work,” he promised, because he’d learned a long time ago that trying to give Rumlow excuses never ended well.

“We’ll see,” the trainer said, doubt clear in his voice. “It’d be a shame for Mr. Stane to have been so willing to put so much time and effort into you for you to turn around and throw it all back in his face. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen here, at least. I’ll be talking to Mr. Stane once we’re finished here. Maybe it’s time we went to meeting every day or doing full days on the weekends. You may be lazy but I’m perfectly willing to do whatever it takes to meet the goals we’ve set for your recovery. Well, reset, I suppose. You’ve missed several of your benchmark goals already.”

Which was true. Rumlow had set the goals after reading Tony’s file and talking to him about what he wanted to achieve. The long-term goal was, obviously, for Tony to be able to walk on his own again without assistance. The benchmark goals were things like being able to take a step in braces or walking with a cane. Tony’s first benchmark goal had been set for three months after he got out of the hospital and he’d wanted to be able to stand with braces on his legs but without holding himself up with bars or anything else. Rumlow had nodded along and said that would be reasonable when they’d set the goal but it was something that Tony hadn’t been able to achieve until just before school started, six months after the car accident that’d killed his parents. He’d fallen after only a few seconds.

“I know, but I’m trying,” Tony pleaded. “I really am. You can _see_ the effort I put in when you’re here!”

Rumlow sighed.

“But that’s just it, though, isn’t it, Tony? You put the effort in when _I’m here_. Recovery can’t take place only during these sessions. You know you have exercises to do outside of this. It’s no wonder you’ve been struggling with your steps if you haven’t been doing your leg stretches as often as you should be.”

“Three times a day,” Tony promised desperately. “I swear it!”

“ _Every_ day?” Rumlow asked speculatively.

Tony started to say yes but had to stop himself short. If he were being completely honest, then there were a couple days he’d been so busy that he’d only been able to do two and he regularly skipped out on the evening leg stretches on the days when he had sessions with Rumlow. Hell, school made it difficult to do his stretches during the day and sometimes practice and getting together with the team afterward would go late enough that he’d be rushing to get his homework done before falling straight into bed. Those days he only did his morning stretches. God, he _was_ slacking off.

“I can do better,” he said instead. “I _will_ do better.”

Rumlow gave him a hard look.

“Yes, you will. I’ll talk to Mr. Stane about coming every day, then. If that’s what it’s going to take, then that’s what we’re going to do,” he said, making a noise of exasperation as he turned away. “I just don’t get how everyone around you can be willing to do what it takes but you still just let yourself _stay_ like this. Come on, let’s get started. I don’t want to waste any more time than we absolutely have to at this rate.”

Tony flushed with shame and dragged himself across the gym behind Rumlow to get to the parallel bars they’d be starting on.

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“Um, who’s car is that?”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at the slightly-beat up but still well-maintained sedan sitting in the drive of the manor before grinning at Tony.

“Mr. Lee said I could use it for the day if I promised to go with him to the grocery store tomorrow to pick up things for the kids. And if I could convince Becks that attempting magic spells is something that needs to be done outside and not on the kitchen table.”

Tony chuckled. Bucky had told him all about how his eldest younger sister had discovered Paganism over the summer and thrown herself into it with all the enthusiasm a twelve-year-old could muster. Bucky had seemed most irritated by the fact that Paganism didn’t instantly mean spellwork but _of course_ that was something Becks threw herself into with reckless abandon. Mr. Lee, who ran the group home where Bucky and his three sisters had lived since their dad had done a runner and their mom had passed away, had nearly had a heart attack last week when he came into the kitchen to find runes carved into the wooden table.

“Think you’ll be able to make it happen?”

“I can only hope,” he said, waving the whole thing off. “It’ll be worth it, though. I wanted to be able to drive you around today. It’ll be a proper date.”

Tony beamed.

“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!”

He slipped into the front seat and Bucky loaded his wheelchair into the back before getting in himself. They’d barely made it out of the driveway before Bucky reached over to take his hand.

“So, I have a bit of a challenge for us today. If you think you’re up for it,” he said with a mischievous glance in Tony’s direction.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You like scavenger hunts?”

“I guess. Did you hide things around town or something?”

Bucky’s grin only broadened.

“Not quite. Our goal for the day is to find an item for each letter of the alphabet and kiss in front of it, with photographic evidence, of course. We have to be able to document our victory.”

Tony didn’t think he’d ever done such a silly, ridiculous thing in his entire life and, after the night before with Rumlow, it sounded nothing short of absolutely perfect.

“So, do businesses count? Because I know there’s an Arby’s at the next corner if you wanted to go ahead and get started.”

“If it gives me an excuse to kiss you then businesses totally count.”

It was gonna be a good day, Tony could tell.

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Tony was right. The day was a whirlwind of laughter and kisses, because they weren’t only kissing when they found each object, and just _fun_. Bucky helped Tony with his leg stretches in the park where they’d stopped for letter R before buying cheap hotdogs and a pretzel from the snack stand for the football teams that were playing. They were some kids’ league or something but Tony and Bucky joined the onlookers, anyway, cheering when everybody else cheered and snickering over the fact that neither of them had any idea what was going on.

Tony and Bucky’s team won, Tony was pretty sure, and they got back to their own game. First stop was back at the snack stand for letter S. Bucky still tasted a bit salty from the pretzel they’d shared. Then it was back to the car and back to cruising.

They got stuck on X for a while until Tony had the idea to go to a toy store. There, they kissed in front of a xylophone, the youth behind the register, and a toy zebra. The cashier thought they were adorable and told them, at length, about how much she wished her own boyfriend would do something like that with her. She’d also given them directions to a nearby ice cream parlor that was apparently _amazing_ so they could celebrate their win.

It wasn’t until they’d hung out at the ice cream parlor for a couple hours, just talking, that Tony had to ask Bucky to help him with another set of leg stretches. Bucky gave him an odd look but it was there and gone again before Tony could really understand it and then they headed out. There was a little grassy area framing the shopping center and they headed that way. It was only once Tony was out of his chair and laying on his back that Bucky started asking questions.

“So, it’s not that I mind or anything, I’ll take any excuse to get my hands all over you,” he winked, “but is there a reason you’re stretching so much today? I mean, you’re not hurt or anything, right? Everything went fine with your physical therapy yesterday?”

Something about how he asked the last question seemed a bit weird but Tony couldn’t put his finger on exactly why.  He frowned and shifted into the first position.

“I’m supposed to be doing the stretches three times a day but I’ve been letting them slip. Between my classes and working with the dance team, I just kept finding excuses. If I want to get better, I actually have to put in the work and that means I can’t keep slacking off.”

Bucky’s face twisted.

“Are you kidding me, Tony? You’re just about the hardest worker I’ve ever met!”

Tony hummed, taking a moment to bask in the warmth of his boyfriend’s hands on his leg, adding a bit of resistance for Tony to work against.

“I get distracted easily,” he confessed. “It’s part of the whole genius thing, you know. I have trouble sticking with one line of thought and sometimes that means I let other things slip. It’s a bad habit.”

There was tension around Bucky’s mouth like he was trying not to let himself scowl but it did absolutely nothing to hide his displeasure.

“Who keeps telling you these things?”

Tony blinked in confusion, sitting up so he could concentrate fully on Bucky. One of his legs lay on either side of the older boy and it was a position that probably would have been very satisfying in any other situation. For now, though, Bucky had finally let the scowl through and it was sending a curl of trepidation through Tony. What had he done wrong this time?

“What do you mean? What things?”

Bucky heaved a sigh.

“You’re amazing, Tony. You know that, right? You’re brilliant and gorgeous but every once in a while you say these _things_ ,” he spat out the word. “It’s like you can’t see yourself clearly or something. You _always_ talk about your physical therapy and your strength is obvious. I may not know much about your injury or what needs to be done to recover from it but even I can tell you’re in _great_ shape for what happened to you. And I’ve seen how much you care about your recovery. You wouldn’t do anything to put that in jeopardy. I won’t believe that.”

Tony didn’t really know what to say. He ducked his head to stare at his hands.

“I’m really not,” he said in a voice so quiet that Bucky had to lean forward to hear him. He didn’t want Bucky to see how pathetic he was. “I’ve been skipping some of my stretches for weeks. I’ve missed almost all of my benchmark goals that have been set since the beginning. It took me nearly twice as long as it should have just to be able to stand while wearing braces and I still fell in a matter of seconds. I can’t even push myself as far as most people because of my lungs.”

“ _Push yourse-_ Tony! You push yourself so hard you’re exhausted even the day _after_ your physical therapy! Last week you fell asleep in your English textbook at lunch and I had to wake you up again. Which, by the way, I didn’t want to do because you clearly needed the rest. That Saturday you came over to help design the routine may be the only time I’ve seen you directly after your therapy but you were a _wreck_.”

Tony flinched and ducked his head down a bit more. Of course Bucky was upset at him. Tony should have taken more time to get ready and made himself presentable that day. He _was_ a wreck. Fuck. He’d thrown rocks at his own relationship before it’d even started.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, pleading.

“ _You’re_ sorry? What even for?”

Tony shrugged one shoulder.

“Making you mad. I shouldn’t have interrupted our date for my stretches. I’m sorry.”

Bucky let out a noise that was half-anger and half-distress before pulling Tony forward and into his arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“No, I’m sorry. You have nothing to apologize for and you should _never_ feel like you can’t interrupt a date for something you need to get done. I’m not mad at you.”

Tony squirmed a bit before settling in.

“You seem pretty mad.”

“Well, I can’t deny I’m mad,” Bucky sighed. “I’m just not mad at you. I’m mad at whoever or whatever is making you think this way about yourself. I’ve been watching it for a while and even other people in the team have noticed. We’re worried about you.”

Tony wiggled his arms up from between them to wrap around Bucky’s shoulders and the older boy all but pulled him into his lap.

“I’m fine,” he promised. “There’s no need to worry.”

Bucky kissed him, then, before burying his face in Tony’s neck and holding him close. Somehow, Tony didn’t think Bucky believed him.

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AeroNut: He has a point, Tones. And you said Rumlow wants to do every day now, too. It’s too much.

AeroNut: There’s no way Obie would let it happen, right? How is he not seeing this? Rumlow’s totally running a scam.

DancingQueen3861: come off it, rhodey

DancingQueen3861: the point is i fucked things up. how do i fix it?

AeroNut: Don’t be an idiot.

AeroNut: You didn’t fuck anything up. Bucky’s saying he’s worried about you because he cares.

AeroNut: I know I threatened to beat the shit out of him but I think I like this guy.

DancingQueen3861: yuore the worst

AeroNut: You know who I don’t like? That Rumlow asshole. Seriously. You should report that guy or something.

DancingQueen3861: to who? dont be ridiculous

AeroNut: He’s messed up.

AeroNut: I don’t know. There’s gotta be a board or a council or something for this kind of thing.

AeroNut: I’ll look into it.

DancingQueen3861: don’t you dare

DancingQueen3861: nothings wrong. he just pushes me

AeroNut: He’d push you off a cliff given half the chance.

AeroNut: Seriously, Tones. He’s not okay.

DancingQueen3861: lay off. its fine

AeroNut: Tones.

DancingQueen3861: i’ve got some homework to get done. ttyl

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Tony was working on an English paper that wasn’t due until the end of the week when Obie knocked on his bedroom door before coming inside. He didn’t look happy. Tony followed him warily with his eyes and turned his wheelchair around to follow Obie’s progress across the room until he sat on Tony’s bed.

“So I’ve had a couple very interesting conversations lately. I’m hoping you might be able to clear them up for me.”

Tony knew that voice. That voice was a warning and it never led to anything good. He sat up a little bit straighter.

“Yeah, okay. I can try.”

“You see, Mr. Rumlow called me yesterday to tell me he’d found out you’d been skipping some of your exercises lately and that you might benefit from seeing him more often. He said you told him yourself that you’d been choosing to do other things instead of working on your PT.”

Tony bit his lip and nodded.

“I didn’t mean to! It was just the leg stretches and I’d just get so busy that I’d let it slide.”

“So what Mr. Rumlow told me was true, then?”

Tony nodded again, his face flushing with shame.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why did I get a call this morning from a Mrs. Rogers, the mother of one of your new little dance team friends, accusing Mr. Rumlow of ‘malpractice’? Apparently, she thinks you’re being pushed too hard and she’s worried about you. She went digging and found a couple of previous cases, all of which had been dismissed, where Mr. Rumlow’s clients had accused him of something similar. I want you to be honest with me, Tony, are you trying to get out of physical therapy? Is this your way of trying to not do it?”

Tony reared back in surprise.

“She did _what?_ No! No, of course not!”

“You know you won’t get any better if you don’t put in the work, Tony. I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am about all this. What else am I supposed to believe?”

“No! Obie, I would never!”

“What am I supposed to believe, then?” Obie cried, surging to his feet and starting to pace. “This can’t all be a coincidence. I thought this dance team thing would be good for you, getting out there and hanging out with kids your own age but since you’ve started you’ve let your schoolwork slide and your physical therapy slide. Was I wrong?”

Tony gaped for a long moment at Obie’s lost expression before his jaw clenched, thinking about the conversation he’d had with Bucky just yesterday.

“I didn’t know Mrs. Rogers would do that.”

Obie ran a hand over his bald head.

“I need you to work with me, Tony. I’ve never had a kid. I’ve been doing the best I can since I took you in but I’m stumbling around blind. I can’t do this all on my own.”

He looked so defeated, so tired, that Tony wheeled himself forward to take one of his hands. Inside, the genius burned with anger at this betrayal. He’d _trusted_ Bucky, trusted all of them.

“I’m sorry, Obie. I let things get away from me a little bit. I got… distracted. You can tell the school I’ll keep doing my extra classes and I’ll do physical therapy as often as Mr. Rumlow thinks I should.”

There was a long silence, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to look up from where his and Obie’s hands were linked.

“And the dance team?”

This time, Tony did look up. The smile he pasted on his face was as fake as a three-dollar bill.

“I don’t think it was nearly as good for me as either of us thought it was. I should be keeping my attention on the things that really matter.”

Obie gave a sigh of relief and reached out with his free hand to ruffle Tony’s hair.

“You’re a good kid, Tony. I knew I could count on you. We’ll get back on track, I promise.”

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..

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“Tony!”

The genius pointedly ignored Bucky’s voice calling out his name as he kept wheeling himself towards his first class of the day. Unfortunately, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Bucky to catch up with him.

“Tony! Hey! How are you? I called you last night but you didn’t pick up. Were you already in bed?”

Tony glared.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to talk to you.”

“What?” Bucky darted in front of Tony’s wheelchair, forcing him to stop. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Tony snorted.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’ve just figured out who the people who really care about me are.”

Bucky deflated a bit.

“Mrs. Rogers got ahold of your godfather, then? She thought it would be better if he heard it from another adult. I’m so sorry. That Rumlow guy was bad news, though.”

Bucky reached for him but Tony shoved him away.

“I’m talking about you,” he accused. “You and the rest of the team who were so ‘worried’ about me. I told you it was fine! I’m not gonna let you stand in my way of getting better. I don’t need the distraction.”

The hurt was clear on Bucky’s face and Tony couldn’t help but feel vindictively pleased by it. How dare Bucky try to play him like that?

“Tony-“

“No. I’m done. Good luck at NDTC. You guys are free to still use the routine as long you stay the Hell away from me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to get to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep... So... That happened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospitals, movies, and breakfast.

Everything hurt. His muscles were sore from his physical therapy sessions and the pain just seemed to build with every exercise they did. His hands were rubbed raw with blisters. His eyes ached from the constant lack of sleep and his head throbbed with a headache. What sleep he had been getting was when he fell across his bed and passed out. He’d had to start setting multiple alarms so he would get up on time in the morning. He’s learned that lesson well a couple Saturdays ago when he slept through and was late to Rumlow’s session.

Tony’s days passed by mostly in a blur. He paid just enough attention in his classes to understand what assignments he needed to do and to get the gist of the information he needed to know. He did his best not to doze off, but there’d been more than a few classes where he’d been woken up by the bell. Ms. Chavez had pulled him aside just last week to ask him if everything was alright and if he needed any help. He, of course, pasted on a smile and told her everything was fine. He wasn’t going to admit how weak he was.

Every so often he’d catch sight of one of the team in the hallways. In the first couple of days after his breakup with Bucky, most of them had come up to try to talk to him. Tony wasn’t interested, though. Even now they would often give him these _looks_ like they were begging him to come talk with their eyes. Tony had to look away every time. The pain of missing the team, of missing _Bucky_ , was the worst of all.

Tony wasn’t a stranger to friendships that weren’t exactly friendly. He’d had his fair share of people trying to suck up to him both at boarding school as well as in the dancing world. He was the kind of person who could get people what they wanted. It made him a target and he’d known that since he was eight. Usually, he was pretty good at spotting it, though, part of why the whole thing with the team was so frustrating.

Part of him, a large part, if he were being completely honest, wanted to believe that Bucky and the team really had been worried about him and really had cared. It made sense, he supposed, because what could they possibly get out of Tony not doing his physical therapy? It was much more logical that they’d imagined some issues and let their worry run wild. It still didn’t make it better, but at least it wasn’t that they had set out to hurt him. He couldn’t believe that, not fully. There was no way his time with Bucky had been… fake.

It made him feel bad for getting so mad but at the same time, they’d had no right to get involved like that. He’d said things were fine and they had been. No matter how he felt about the team, about Bucky, there was no way Tony could forget that kind of betrayal. How could he trust them again? No, it was better if he just cut that out of his life completely. The conviction was helped not at all by the glimpses he kept catching of Bucky.

There were no cliché signs of Bucky losing his health to heartbreak or anything ridiculous like that, but it was clear that the breakup was affecting him. He hadn’t approached Tony again, likely because of the glares he would get any time he had so much as looked like he was considering it. Instead, Bucky would just watch Tony with dark eyes, becoming more and more visibly worried as time passed. Tony started to dread the moments where he’d catch a glimpse of the older boy, if only because it made him want to throw himself into Bucky’s arms and beg him to take Tony back.

Tony missed Bucky. He missed hanging out with him when the team went for burgers. He missed sneaking kisses in the hallway when the teachers weren’t looking. He missed _laughing_. Rhodey would know what to do, Tony was sure, but he’d hardly had the time to get online and chat with his friend from boarding school. They were only able to exchange a few spare words every couple of days before Tony took advantage of the free time to nap. He’d missed the last three calls from Pepper, too, and hadn’t been able to find the time to call her back.

Tony wished _fiercely_ that Mrs. Rogers had never made that call to Obie. There was very little he wished for more than that. She had, though, and now he was living with the consequences. He’d gotten distracted, gotten lazy, and gotten a taste of reality. He’d made his bed and now he’d have to lie in it. That was okay. He was used to losing things.

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“Tony!” the librarian greeted him warmly. “How are you doing today?”

Tony was dragging, actually. His head was pounding hard enough that he felt like it would split wide open at any second. He smiled at the teacher. He appreciated more than ever that the SHIELD librarian seemed to like him so much even though she ruled with an iron fist everyone else who stepped near her shelves.

“Doing well. How about you, Ms. Masque?”

“It’s been a slow day, but that’s nice every once in a while. There’s a class taking up your usual spot today but I’ll open up the back conference room for you, if you’d like.”

“Really? But I thought-“

“You never cause any trouble, Tony, and you’re in here every day. It’s no trouble at all. I know you have a lot of work to do. I warn you, though, it gets a bit hot in there.”

Tony somehow dragged together the energy to beam at her.

“That would be _great_. You’re awesome!”

Ms. Masque just laughed and grabbed her keys.

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Tony woke up briefly to noise and activity all around him, someone leaning over him and talking to him loudly. He couldn’t make out the words but still tried to respond. Nothing came out but a vague groaning noise. There were hands on him and something strapped around his neck. It seemed like everything was shaking just a bit. He tried to roll his head to the side but couldn’t. Panic started welling up in his chest.

He recognized the cabinets along the narrow walls, the uniforms on the people surrounding him. He was in an ambulance. Had there been another accident. _Fuck_ , he couldn’t remember anything. What had happened? He tried again to talk to the paramedic who was leaning over again, but still couldn’t seem to get his tongue working. He was unconscious again in seconds.

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The next time Tony woke up, he was in a hospital room with only dusky light coming through the window. There was a brightly-colored mural of dancing teddy bears on the wall and a heart monitor beeping away steadily beside the bed. He traced the line of the IV in this arm back to a bag of clear liquid hanging from a pole. No one was in the room with him and the door was closed. He fumbled one hand across the bed until he could find the nurse call button. A young man in scrubs opened his door just minutes later.

“Hey, there. It’s good to see you awake. I’m Mark. How are you feeling?”

Tony’s head was still pounding, but it was better, at least. He was also sore as hell and it tasted like something had crawled into his mouth and died.

“I’m fine. What happened?”

Mark’s expression pinched for a split second before he smiled again and moved closer, coming to a stop next to Tony’s bed.

“You collapsed at your school. The librarian got worried when she didn’t see you leaving the library and went to check on you. She’s the one who called 911. Tell me, Anthony, do you normally skip lunch?”

“Call me Tony. And, yeah, most days. I take extra classes so I use the time to study or do homework. I’m not usually hungry. Why? Is that why I passed out? I don’t remember much of anything.”

Mark hummed and jotted something down on his pad.

“It could be part of it. We’re still trying to determine the exact cause. You were asleep for a while, Tony. With your godfather’s permission, we’ve already run some tests. You were malnourished and dehydrated when you passed out and the room you were in was on the warm side, not dangerously so, but we think it may have pushed your other conditions over the edge. How much sleep have you been getting lately would you say? How many hours a night?”

While he talked, Mark poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the bedside tray and held it out to Tony. He took it gratefully, suddenly realizing just how parched he was.

“Uh, I dunno, really. I guess I don’t ever really count.”

For some reason, that got Mark looking all pinched again.

“Would you say it was more towards eight to nine hours? Six to seven? Less?”

“Six or less? Maybe? Look, I dunno. Where’s Obie? My godfather? He should be here.”

Tony didn’t like this. Something about it just didn’t feel right.

“He was here earlier,” Mark assured. “I think he went home to grab a few things but I’m not sure. He was talking to the doctor earlier and we didn’t expect you to wake up quite yet, to be honest. You seemed pretty tired.”

Tony thought that was probably supposed to be a joke. He didn’t think it was very funny.

“When is he coming back?”

“I’m not sure. He’s your legal guardian, though, so he’ll be allowed to stay the night if he chooses to. I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”

Tony’s eyes darted around the room, noticing his wheelchair folded and tucked against the far wall. He felt trapped. Something in Mark’s tone of voice or maybe his phrasing didn’t feel right. Tony didn’t like it one bit.

“What do you need to ask?”

Mark smiled at him again like the nurse was his teacher and Tony had given the right answer in class.

“You work with a physical therapist, correct? Since your accident last February?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what that has to do with anything, though.”

“What’s your physical therapist’s name?”

Something in the way Mark asked the question told Tony that he already knew the answer. Tony’s eyes narrowed a bit suspiciously.

“Rumlow. Why?”

“Brock Rumlow?”

Tony leaned over to put his cup back on the tray before folding his arms across his chest and glaring.

“I think you should tell me what’s going on here.”

Mark’s face did that pinching thing again before he gave a little nod and settled on the edge of Tony’s bed.

“There are certain red flags that can pop up from time to time with patients, Tony. If there are enough of them, we’re required to report the case and… investigate.”

“Investigate _what_ exactly?”

“Your case has been flagged by Child Protective Services. We’re investigating for evidence of child abuse. There are more than a couple signs of it.” Tony’s jaw dropped as Mark leaned forward to lay a hand on Tony’s forearm. “You’re safe here, Tony, and we’ll do everything we can to help you. It’s very important that you be honest with me, okay? And with the CPS agents who will be coming to talk to you and your godfather tomorrow.”

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Tony practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of a knock on his hospital door. He’d hardly slept at all the night before and the CPS agents had taken Obie for an interview less than fifteen minutes ago. Obie had been fuming, even after it was clarified that the investigation was centered more around Tony’s personal trainer than it was around his godfather.

“Come in.”

Tony had honestly expected it to be one of the CPS agents looping back to interview him on his own. He was surprised when Mrs. Rogers poked her head through the door with a beaming smile.

“Tony! How are you feeling? Up for some visitors?”

Tony scrambled to sit up a bit further in the bed and straighten his sheets.

“Uh, um, yeah. Sure.”

He froze when she opened the door only for Steve and Bucky to barrel past her and into the room. He was wrapped up in Bucky’s arms seconds later.

“God, I was so worried about you.”

“ _We’ve_ been worried about you,” Steve corrected, elbowing Bucky in the ribs and then rolling his eyes when Bucky didn’t budge an inch. “Word traveled fast at school. Bucky was set to just flat out skip the rest of the day and come straight here but I managed to get him to wait until we could talk to my mom. Then _she_ managed to get him to wait until today.”

Tony didn’t know what to say. He was still a little bit stunned to have them in the room at all.

“Wha-What are you guys doing here?”

Bucky made a wounded sort of noise and pulled back, but not far enough to actually release Tony from his grasp.

“How could we _not_ be here? You collapsed, Tony! People saw you being carried out of the library by paramedics and the rumor mill blew its top. Jesus, Tony, I thought you might be dead with some of the stuff people were saying!”

His distress couldn’t have been clearer and Tony reached out without even thinking to cup his hands on either side of Bucky’s face.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m fine, okay?”

Bucky’s expression twisted into something pained before he yanked Tony into another embrace.

“You always say that. Do you think we’re all blind, Tony? You’re in a hospital, for God’s sakes.”

It felt unfairly good to be back in Bucky’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into the older boy’s chest. “You were right, about Rumlow. CPS is investigating and they found a bunch of evidence and they’re talking to Obie now to get more specifics on _this_ case, but-“ he choked on his words before pressing onward. Tony Stark was not a coward. “You were right. He was pushing me too hard. I hadn’t even realized how bad it’d gotten, I just thought… I’ve lost over fifteen pounds since my last doctor’s visit. I passed out because of a combination of dehydration and malnutrition and my body just _giving out_. You tried to warn me, tried to _help_ me, and I-“

“Shhhh,” Bucky cut him off, carding a hand through Tony’s hair and rocking him gently. “You have nothing to apologize for. We should have handled it better. I didn’t know Steve’s mom was planning to call Obie or anything, either, and I am _so sorry_ it upset you so much.”

“That was my fault,” Mrs. Rogers spoke up, and Tony peeked over Bucky’s shoulder to look at her. “Rumlow’s name sounded familiar because I’d heard about some of his… past indiscretions before. It took me a little while to find anything, but I called your godfather as soon as I did. I was worried. All I could think of was that I wanted him away from you as soon as possible. I was, perhaps, not as delicate about it as I should have been.”

Steve shoved both Bucky and Tony before climbing up on the bed on Tony’s other side.

“The point is, we’re glad you’re okay, Tony. You think maybe you could come back to practices? Or at least talk to us again? Clint’s been sulking for _ages_ and you don’t even want to know about Bucky’s behavior. He’s been all tense, can’t dance for the life of him anymore.”

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky said, voice full of affection, before turning back to Tony. “What do you say?”

Tony let himself lean further into Bucky’s chest.

“I’ve missed you guys. A lot.”

Bucky beamed.

“But mostly me, right?”

Tony looked up into grey-blue eyes and leaned forward to press a quick, furtive kiss to Bucky’s lips.

“Yeah, mostly you.”

Bucky’s kiss in return was _very_ enthusiastic.

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..

.

“Thank you again for your cooperation on this matter,” Agent Sitwell said as he shook both Tony’s and Obie’s hands. “I know it’s not a situation anyone wants to find themselves in.”

“Of course,” Obie replied, moving to place a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I just feel so terrible to find out something like this was happening right under my nose.”

Tony reached up to lay his hand over Obie’s.

“It wasn’t your fault. How could you have known?”

“It’s, unfortunately, something we see far too much of. Predators like Mr. Rumlow are experts in keeping their abuses hidden. That’s why it’s so important for us to follow this case as far as it will take us.”

The hand on Tony’s shoulder tightened its grip.

“What do you mean?”

“These individuals are often part of a network. Not always, but often enough that it pays to follow up that line of inquiry. We’ll be working with the police who arrested Mr. Rumlow to find out all we can.”

“Ah, then I wish you the best of luck. The less people like that we have on the streets, the better. If there’s anything more Tony or I can do for you, please let me know.”

The edges of Obie’s smile were tight, Tony noticed, like when he was at a gala and schmoozing someone he really didn’t like.

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“Surprise!”

Tony gaped at the gathered dance team on his doorstep. Bucky grinned at him from the front, hefting two twenty-four packs of soda. The rest of the team all bore their own gifts, including enough pizza to feed an army.

“What are you guys doing here?”

Tony had been in the hospital for a week following his collapse last Friday and now, his first full day home brought with it this mystery.

“What does it look like?” Clint chimed, holding up two family-sized bags of Doritos like war prizes. “We came for a movie night!”

“My mom called Obie to make sure it was okay,” Steve grinned sheepishly. “We wanted it to be a surprise but we also wanted to make sure you knew we were here for you.”

“Nothing says that better than pizza, right?” Bucky asked, looking hopeful but also a little bit terrified.

Tony beamed at them.

“A burger might win, but I guess pizza’s pretty good, too.”

There were cheers all around before the team tromped into the house, each giving Tony their own little greeting or words of condolence. Natasha actually kissed him on the cheek. Tony was pretty sure that meant he was going to have to die now. Instead of dwelling on his imminent death, though, Tony led them through the house to the home theatre room.

“Holy shit, dude! I knew you were rich but this is insane!”

Steve glared at Clint.

“Language!”

“I vote we have all movie nights here from now on,” Pietro spoke up from where he was testing out the reclining seats. “I could get used to this.”

“Agreed,” Wanda said as she sat down beside him.

“So,” Bucky asked as he leaned in close to Tony, “what are we watching?”

“Uh, I dunno. FRIDAY?”

“Shall I pull up the movie list, boss?”

The entire team jumped at the sound of the disembodied voice and Tony grinned.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Project it onto the screen and let these hooligans pick whatever they want.”

Bucky swooped down to kiss him as the categories popped up on the gigantic screen.

“You’re amazing,” Bucky said before kissing him again, “and you never cease to amaze me.”

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Tony called in breakfast for the team in the morning, since all of them had ended up spending the night. Apparently, that’d been the plan all along. Obie showed up about half-way through the meal in his silk pajama bottoms and a plush robe. He greeted the team happily while getting his own plate of eggs, bacon, and a waffle. Tony waved him off when the doorbell rang.

“You just sat down, Obie! I’ll get it!”

Obie toasted him with a glass of orange juice as Tony wheeled himself out of the room. It felt good, having the team in his home. Not even the Stark Mansion had felt so full when he’d been living there with his parents and Jarvis. This was good. This was _great_.

Tony opened the door to find Agent Sitwell on his doorstep, flanked by two police officers.

“What’s going on?”

Because Tony wasn’t an idiot and he knew something had to be going on.

“Tony,” Agents Sitwell greeted with a smile, “it’s good to see you up and about. I noticed there were a few extra cars in the drive. Do you have guests?”

“Yeah, my dance team is over. Is this about Rumlow? Did something happen?”

“Mr. Rumlow provided us with some information that we’re looking to confirm. Is your godfather home?”

“Um, sure, yeah. He’s in the dining room with my team. Come on in, I’ll show you the way.”

He wheeled aside so they could enter and then led the way. Obie stood as soon as they entered the room, moving forward to shake the CPS agent’s hand.

“Agent Sitwell, what a surprise! What can we do for you? Has there been any news about the case?”

“Actually, yes. Officers, if you would.”

The two policemen moved forward to grab Obie’s hands and pull them behind his back, cuffing them securely.

“Obadiah Stane, you are under arrest for endangering a minor, conspiracy, fraud, and several other crimes I am _really_ looking forward to reading off to you as soon as we’re back at the station. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the poli-“

“Stop! What are you doing?!”

Tony lunged forward but the second officer blocked him and grabbed his shoulders to keep him in his wheelchair while the first escorted a protesting Obie out the doors to the dining room.

“It was discovered,” Agent Sitwell began softly, “that your godfather hired Mr. Rumlow for the specific task of wearing you down physically in the hopes that you would either collapse under the strain or be too exhausted to recover from your accident.”

“What? No!” Tony shouted, shoving at the officer holding him down. “Obie wouldn’t do that! You’re insane!”

Bucky was there in a heartbeat, sliding the officer out of the way with a meaningful look and gathering Tony into his side. Tony stopped struggling in order to cling to him. Agent Sitwell looked deeply pained.

“We found emails and text messages from Mr. Rumlow’s devices documenting the conversation, Tony. I’m sorry. With those we were able to get a search warrant for Mr. Stane’s other electronic history. We discovered a lot more there than we had bargained for. As it turns out, Mr. Stane has been stealing money from your Trust pretty much since the day your parents were killed in that accident and he’s been maneuvering your shares of Stark Industries stock out of your hands and into his own,” Sitwell said before taking a deep, fortifying breath. “As of this time, you are now a ward of the State.”

Tony crumpled into Bucky’s side and fought hard against the urge to cry. It didn’t work out for him very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left to go, guys!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes together.

Steve called his mom first thing, of course. Then it turned out that Wanda and Pietro’s dad was some powerful guy who might work for the government but also might just know a lot of people who did. Tony couldn’t quite tell but, either way, they had him calling in favors within ten minutes. Natasha was making her own calls to Tony didn’t even know who, and both Bruce and Bucky were camped out with Tony on the couch. Bucky had wound himself around his newly-reclaimed boyfriend while Bruce kept getting up to run back and forth fetching tea or whatever else he thought Tony might need in that moment.

“It’s… Obie wouldn’t do that,” Tony tried again, but even he was aware that he sounded more exhausted than defiant.

He slumped against Bucky, taking comfort in the arms that were wrapped around him. His mind was reeling with thoughts of what would happen now. He didn’t have any surviving family left. That was why Obie had been named not only his godfather but it had been stated in Howard’s will that he’d get custody of Tony. So now Tony would go into the foster care system and be left to flounder while the sharks circled. He’d known before that people would have tried to take advantage of him but now… Well, if even Obie would do it then how was he supposed to trust anyone who came along?

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Agent Sitwell spoke gently from where he was seated on the nearby armchair.  “It’s a huge change and I know you want to believe that Mr. Stane didn’t do this. We’re going to make sure everything is handled properly, though. We’re going to make sure you aren’t ever hurt like that again, Tony.”

Tony made a wounded sort of noise and Bucky’s hand ran comfortingly up and down his side.

“What’s going to happen now?” the older boy asked.

Tony knew what he was really asking. How much time did they have before CPS took Tony away?

“Mr. Stark’s is a bit of a unique situation,” Agent Sitwell explained. “There will be extra precautions that will need to be taken, considering his background and physical disabilities. He’ll be placed in a temporary home that will be capable of seeing to his particular needs while it’s decided where he needs to go in the long run.” He sent a reassuring smile in Tony’s direction. “I’m sure you’ll have no shortage of people who’d like to take you in.”

But Tony just shook his head adamantly.

“I don’t want to be _taken in_ ,” he sneered. “I don’t need anyone else trying to _use_ me.”

Agent Sitwell’s lips thinned.

“You’re too young to be declared an emancipated youth and considering your physical state I don’t think a judge would approve it anyway. I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony wanted to scream. He spent most of his time at home by himself anyway. What would be the difference?

“What if he came to stay with me?”

Tony blinked in surprise and pulled himself upright, staring at Bucky in shock. Agent Sitwell was already shaking his head, though.

“It’s not that simple. We can’t just let the children in our care stay with friends. Even if your parents are registered foster parents, they likely aren’t cleared to give the kind of care that would be required.”

“My parents are dead,” Bucky insisted, leaning forward and taking Tony with him. “I’m a foster kid. My sister’s and I are in a group home until I turn eighteen and can take custody of them. We’ve _had_ kids with disabilities in the home before. Mr. Lee would be happy to take Tony in.”

He glanced to the side, catching Tony’s eye and begging the genius to let this happen. Tony could see the fear on Bucky’s face. He was terrified of losing Tony all over again. Tony could only throw his arms around the older boy’s neck and all but pull himself into Bucky’s lap.

“Please,” was all he managed to get out.

He couldn’t see Agent Sitwell from his new position, but Bucky’s arms were wrapped around him and pulling him closer and there was no way he was moving. He needed an anchor and, in that moment, Bucky was the only thing keeping him from completely losing it. Behind him, Agent Sitwell cleared his throat.

“Mr. Lee, you said?”

“Yeah, Stan. It’s The Marvel Home.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Tony was only dimly aware of Agent Sitwell standing and walking away with a phone pressed to his ear.

“Thank you,” he gasped out against Bucky’s neck, the tears finally coming.

It was too much. It was all too much. Bucky’s lips pressed to the side of his head seared like a brand.

“Anything,” Bucky promised. “Anything.”

.

..

…

..

.

Tony clutched his duffle bag of belongings to his chest as Mr. Lee pulled into the driveway for The Marvel House. He wished Bucky could have come with Mr. Lee to pick him up from the CPS office but apparently that was frowned upon, even if it wasn’t outright against the rules. Tony just would have really liked to have him there.

“He’s waiting inside,” Mr. Lee said, as if sensing Tony’s thoughts. “He cares about you a lot, you know.”

Tony nodded jerkily. Just because this was the best option available to him didn’t mean he wasn’t still terrified of the entire thing. He’d have Bucky and the team but he was still leaving a huge amount of his life behind. Bucky had talked to him about the home so at least he knew a bit of what to expect. It was just that Tony had never _lived_ with people his own age before. He’d also never lived in such close quarters.

“I know.”

Mr. Lee glanced at him.

“We’ll get you settled in. It’ll take you some getting used to but I think you’ll be just fine. You’re a strong kid, Tony. You’ll get through this and get up stronger than ever.”

That, coupled with Bucky charging out of the home’s front door with his three younger sisters in tow, actually helped a lot.

.

..

...

..

.

“Tony Stark?”

Tony looked up from where he was fixing Mr. Lee’s prehistoric computer so that it was actually useable again. A brunet man in his mid-thirties and wearing sweats stood in the doorway of the living room. He gave a little smile and wave to the genius.

“Yeah,” Tony said, feeling a bit cautious. He knew exactly who this was. On the couch, Bucky was already reaching for the remote to turn off the TV and glaring at the man. “That’s me.”

The man’s smile broadened as he crossed the room to shake Tony’s hand.

“I’m Mr. Hogan your new physical therapist. I’m looking forward to working with you. I’ve heard a lot of great things.”

His hand was warm and soft around Tony’s and the genius felt a little bit of his caution ease, even if Bucky was still doing his best impression of an over-protective guard dog.

“Me, too. I should warn you, though, my last physical therapist wound up in jail. You sure you can handle it?”

Mr. Hogan’s laugh was a lot like his handshake.

“Well, I’ll certainly try, Mr. Stark.”

“Call me Tony. Mind if I call you Happy? I think it fits.”

.

..

…

..

.

“Tony!”

Pepper threw her arms around him the second the door was open, nearly knocking Tony’s crutches aside and sending them both tumbling to the ground. It was only Rhodey’s quick reflexes that kept them upright when he lunged forward to grab them. He joined in the hugging as soon as they were stable again.

“It’s good to see you, Tones.”

“I can’t believe you guys made it! Best Christmas ever!”

Pepper pulled back just so she could swat him on the arm.

“As if we would miss it! I called my mother to break the news to her and she _insisted_ I come. I’m starting to feel a little jealous.”

Tony grinned.

“I love your mom.”

“You love my mom because she keeps sending you boxes of baked goods.”

“And your mom’s orange spritz cookies are _delicious_.”

Rhodey laughed.

“Then you’ll be glad to know there’s a bunch of them loaded up in the car. Pepper wouldn’t let me have _any_ of them so you better be willing to share. I’ve been cooped up in a car with that _smell_ for _hours_. I can’t take it anymore!”

“So these are the legendary Pepper and Rhodey, huh?”

Tony turned to find Bucky leaning lazily against the doorway to the kitchen, an easy smile stretched across his lips. Tony headed over for a kiss.

“And you must be Bucky, I take it,” Rhodey said, moving forward to yank Bucky into his own round of hugs. “Thank you, for looking after Tony when we can’t.”

Tony was about to tell Rhodey exactly what he thought of _that_ particular statement when someone else stepped through the door. Once-black hair was peppered with white and laugh lines deepened as Edwin Jarvis smiled at the young teenager.

“I see the festivities are starting early.”

Tony gaped.

“But-How? You’re here?”

Pepper pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Surprise! We wanted to make sure you had the whole family together for Christmas.”

Tony didn’t cry. He _didn’t_ , no matter what Rhodey might claim otherwise.

.

..

…

..

.

“Um… I’m really not sure this is necessary.”

Becks gave him a look that clearly questioned Tony’s intelligence. Which, really, he was a certified genius. There was no need for that.

“Look, I’m not taking any chances and Bucky refuses to facilitate me placing a love spell on _you_ so you’re my only hope. Just cup these herbs in both hands while thinking of my brother _appropriately_ while I do the chant and then we’ll put it under his pillow.”

“And why are we putting a love spell on your brother? This is for him to fall in love with me, right? I’m pretty sure that already happened.”

Becks just rolled her eyes.

“You guys already broke up once and, like I said, I’m not taking any chances. You’re family, Tony. I’ll be damned if we lose you again.”

“I don’t think your brother would be happy to find out you’re cursing now. When did that even start?”

Tony helped her hide the spell under Bucky’s pillow anyway.

.

..

…

..

.

“I think I might throw up.”

Tony settled on a chair across from Bucky, rubbing his arms vigorously. The rest of the team was scattered around, each displaying their own level of nerves. Natasha was the only one looking not at all bothered. Somehow, that didn’t surprise Tony in the slightest. They were all decked out in slightly modified black leotards with SHIELD’s symbolic eagle emblazoned across the front. Thor had done a great job.

“You’ve got this, Bucky,” Tony reassured. “This is what you guys have been practicing for months. Just pretend you’re back in the studio at the school. You _know_ these moves. All you have to do is go out there and dance. Come on, breathe with me.”

Tony sucked a breath in, held it until Bucky copied him, and then let it out. They repeated the process several times until Bucky was able to give him a shaky smile.

“Thanks.”

Tony beamed at him.

“Anything,” he promised, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s lips. “Now get going. Steve looks like he’s freaking out over last minute adjustments and I have to make it to my seat before it’s too late if I want to be able to see anything. I do _not_ plan on missing this.”

Bucky sighed and stood, pulling Tony up with him.

“You’re amazing, you know that? Go get your seat. I’ll Steve Wrangle. If nothing else, it’ll keep my mind off the nerves,” he said, before kissing Tony again. “I love you.”

Another kiss.

“Love you, too.”

Tony turned to crutch away, glancing over his shoulder to watch Bucky until he was out of sight. The campus being used for the competition was packed full, making it difficult to move around. Tony’s face certainly wasn’t helping matters much, either. It’d been a year since the accident that’d taken him out of the dancing world and only about four months since the ground-breaking story of his godfather’s abuse. It was a feeding frenzy.

The NDTC officials, at least, didn’t want their event turned into a circus but there was only so much they could do. The press was _allowed_ in to cover the competition. How could they resist asking Tony a few questions, too? He was safe back in the restricted areas with his team, but not out here in the open. Still, he was a Stark. He was used to being under media scrutiny.

“Mr. Stark!”

Tony had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and kept right on moving.

“No comment.” He tossed over his shoulder.

“Wait! No, wait!”

It was the panic in the voice that made Tony pause. The media never sounded like that. He was shocked to see two men coming toward him through the crowd, one in a wheelchair and the other pushing. Tony waited for them to catch up.

“Thank fuck,” the thirty-something who’d been pushing the wheelchair groused. “I thought we’d never find you in this place.”

The man in the wheelchair shot him a stern look before turning back to Tony and offering his hand to shake.

“Please forgive my companion’s manners. My name is Charles. Do you mind if I took up just a moment of your time?”

Tony hesitated.

“I’ve got to get to my seat before my team goes on. Can you talk on the way?”

The two men immediately started moving with him.

“So it’s true, then? You’re here as part of a team? I had heard you’d quit, initially.”

“Yeah, well, life has a funny way of making things happen. Turned out I could survive without full use of my legs but I couldn’t survive without dance, even if I can’t actually do it myself.”

Charles sent him a smile and shifted a bit to reach into a pocket, pulling out his wallet.

“I’m glad to hear that. Very glad, actually. I’d like to talk to you more, sometime when you’re more able to talk,” he said, getting out a business card and passing it over. Tony stuck it between his fingers so he could look at it later when he wasn’t trying to walk. “I run a school for exceptional young people, many of them with attributes that set them apart from the general public. Your story is an inspiring one. I would love it if you could come talk to the students at some point.”

“I, um, I’ve never really done anything like that.”

“Well, consider it, please. We would be honored to host you. My number is on the card so you can call me anytime.”

“Right. Yeah, sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Fantastic. We’ll let you enjoy your day, then. I hope to hear from you soon, Mr. Stark.”

“Sure, uh,” Tony glanced at the card, “Mr. Xavier. I’ll give you a call in the next couple weeks.”

.

..

…

..

.

“Oh, my God! You guys did it! You did it!”

Tony laughed as Bucky swept him up and spun him around, other members of the team having to dodge out of the way of Tony’s crutches. He was relieved of them moments later by Pietro.

“We won,” Bucky was shouting. “We won!”

Then they were kissing enthusiastically, Bucky holding him up and keeping him on his feet while Tony clung to his shoulders. There was more celebrating going on around them but Tony wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to anyone but Bucky. The older boy pulled back only enough to rest his forehead against Tony’s.

“We never could have done it without you. Thank you, Tony.”

Tony could only kiss him again.

“Least I could do, what with the way you guys saved me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have enjoyed! If any of you are interested in reading my original work... even though it's incredibly different...  
> https://www.amazon.com/Peteys-Loaded-Dream-Soul-Food/dp/0997175605/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1470709914&sr=8-1&keywords=Petey%27s+Loaded+Dream


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